HImmbI^^HSL 

fflffini 


SSnl 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


/ 


/ 


' 


THE    LITTLE    MANX    NATION 


THE     LITTLE 


Manx  Nation 


BY 


HALL    CAINE 

AL'THOK    OF 
VHB  BONDMAN,"  "  THE  DEEMSTER:   ETC. 


NEW  YORK 
UNITED  STATES  BOOK  COMPANY 

SUCCESSORS  TO 

JOHN    W.    LOVELL    COMPANY 

150  WORTH  STREET,  COR.  MISSION  PLACE 


DA 

6  70 
MZC/ZS 


To  the 
%everend  <f.  8.  "Brown,  M.*A. 

You  see  what  I  send  you — my  lectures  at  the  T{oyal  Institution  in  the 
Spring.  In  making  a  little  book  of  them  I  have  thought  it  best  to  leave 
them  as  they  were  delivered,  with  all  the  colloquialisms  that  are  natural 
to  spoken  words  jrankly  exposed  to  cold  print.  This  dees  not  help 
them  to  any  particular  distinction  as  literature,  but  perhaps  it  lends 
them  an  ease  end  familiarity  ■which  may  partly  atone  to  you  and  to  all 
good  souls  Jor  their  plentiful  lack  of  dgnity.  1  have  said  so  often  that 
I  am  not  an  historian,  thct  I  ought  to  add  that  whatever  history  lies 
hidden  here  belongs  to  Train,  our  only  accredited  chronicler,  and,  even 
at  the  risk  of  boning  too  low,  I  must  needs  protest,  in  our  north-country 
homespun,  that  he  shall  have  the  pudding  if  he  will  also  take  the 
pudding-bag.  You  know  what  I  mean.  *At  some  points  our  history — 
especially  our  early  history — is  still  so  vague,  so  dubious,  so  full  of 
mystery.  It  is  all  the  fault  of  little  oslfannanan,  our  ancient  <^Atanx 
magician,  •alio  enshrouded  our  island  in  mist.  Or  should  I  say  it  is  to 
his  credit,  for  has  he  not  left  us  through  all  time  some  shadowy  figures 
to  fight  about,  like  "  rael,  thrue,  regular  "  o^Ianxmen  ?  <As  for  the 
stories,  the  "yarns"  that  lie  like  flies — like  blue-bottles,  like  bees,  I  trust 
not  like  wasps — in  the  amber  of  the  history,  y  u  will  see  that  they  are 
mainly  my  own.  On  second  thought  it  occurs  to  me  that  maybe  they  are 
mainly  yours.  Let  us  say  that  they  are  both  yours  and  mine,  or  perhaps, 
if  the  world  finds  anything  good  in  them,  any  humour,  any  pathos,  any 
racy  touches  of  our  rugged  people,  you  -will  permit  me  to  determine  their 
ownership  in  the  way  of  this  paraphrase  of  Qoleridge's  doggerel  version 
of  the  two  Latin  hexameters — 

"  They're  mine  and  they  are  likewise  yours, 
'But  an  if  that  will  not  do, 
Let  them  be  mine,  good Jncnd  !  for  I 
t^im  the  poorer  of  the  two." 

Hawthorns,  Keswick, 
June  1891. 


1778833 


CONTENTS 

THE  STORY  OF   THE    MANX    KINGS. 

Islanders — Our  Island — The  Name  of  our  Island— Our  History 
—King  Orry— The  Tynwald— The  Lost  Saga— The  Manx 
Macbeth — The  Manx  Glo'ster — Scotch  and  English  Dominion 
— The  Stanley  Dynasty — Iliam  Dhoan — The  Athol  Dynasty 
— Smuggling  and  Wrecking — The  Revestment — Home  Rule 
— Orry's  Sons pp.  y,  -52 

THE  STORY  OF   THE   MANX    BISHOPS. 

The  Druids — Conversion  to  Christianity — The  Early  Bishops 
of  Man— Bishops  of  the  Welsh  Dynasty — Bishops  of  the 
Norse  Dynasty — Sodor  and  Man — The  Early  Bishops  of  the 
House  of  Stanley— Tithes  in  Kind— The  Gambling  Bishop— 
The  Deemsters — The  Bishopric  Vacant — Bishop  Wilson — 
Bishop  Wilson's  Censures — The  Great  Corn  Famine — The 
Bishop  at  Court — Stories  of  Bishop  Wilson — Quarrels  of 
Church  and  State — Some  Old  Ordeals — The  Herring  Fishery 
— The  Fishermen's  Service — Some  Old  Laws — Katherine 
Kinrade— Bishop  Wilson's  Last  Days— The  Athol  Bishops 

PP-  53-io5 

THE  STORY   OF  THE   MANX    PEOPLE. 

The  Manx  Language — Manx  Names — Manx  Imagination — 
Manx  Proverbs — Manx  Ballads — Manx  Carols — Decay  of  the 
Manx  Language — Manx  Superstitions — Manx  Stories — Manx 
"Characters" — Manx  Characteristics — Manx  Types — Literary 
Associations — Manx  Progress — Conclusion     .         .     pp.  106-159 


THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  MANX  KINGS 

There  are  just  two  ideas  which  are  associated  in 
the  popular  imagination  with  the  first  thought  of 
the  Isle  of  Man.  The  one  is  that  Manxmen  have 
three  legs,  and  the  other  that  Manx  cats  have  no 
tails.  But  whatever  the  popular  conception,  or 
misconception,  of  Man  and  its  people,  I  shall  assume 
that  what  you  ask  from  me  is  that  simple  knowledge 
of  simple  things  which  has  come  to  me  by  the 
accident  of  my  parentage.  I  must  confess  to  you 
at  the  outset  that  I  am  not  much  of  a  hand  at 
grave  history.  Facts  and  figures  I  cannot  expound 
with  authority.  But  I  know  the  history  of  the  Isle 
of  Man,  can  see  it  clear,  can  see  it  whole,  and  perhaps 
it  will  content  you  if  I  can  show  you  the  soul  of  it 

A 


2  THE  LITTLE  MANX   NATION  [lect.  i 

and  make  it  to  live  before  you.  In  attempting  to 
traverse  the  history  I  feel  like  one  who  carries  a 
dark  lantern  through  ten  dark  centuries.  I  turn 
the  bull's  eye  on  this  incident  and  that,  take  a  peep 
here  and  there,  a  white  light  now,  and  then  a  blank 
darkness.  Those  ten  centuries  are  full  of  lusty 
fights,  victories,  vanquishments,  quarrels,  peace- 
making, shindies  big  and  little,  rumpus  solemn  and 
ridiculous,  clouds  of  dust,  regal  dust,  political  dust, 
and  religious  dust — you  know  the  way  of  it.  But 
beneath  it  all  and  behind  it  all  lies  the  real,  true, 
living  human  heart  of  Manxland.  I  want  to  show 
it  to  you,  if  you  will  allow  me  to  spare  the  needful 
time  from  facts  and  figures.  It  will  get  you  close 
to  Man  and  its  people,  and  it  is  not  to  be  found  in 
the  history  books. 

Islanders 

And  now,  first,  we  Manxmen  are  islanders.  It 
is  not  everybody  who  lives  on  an  island  that  is  an 
islander.  You  know  what  I  mean.  I  mean  by  an 
islander  one  whose  daily  life  is  affected  by  the 
constant  presence  of  the  sea.  This  is  possible 
in  a  big  island  if  it  is   far   enough   away  from  the 


lect.i]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  3 

rest  of  the  world,  Iceland,  for  example,  but  it  is 
inevitable  in  a  little  one.  The  sea  is  always 
present  with  Manxmen.  Everything  they  do, 
everything  they  say,  gets  the  colour  and  shimmer  of 
the  sea.  The  sea  goes  into  their  bones,  it  comes 
out  at  their  skin.  Their  talk  is  full  of  it.  They 
buy  by  it,  they  sell  by  it,  they  quarrel  by  it,  they 
fight  by  it,  they  swear  by  it,  they  pray  by  it.  Of 
course  they  are  not  conscious  of  this.  Only  their 
degenerate  son,  myself  to  wit,  a  chiel  among  them 
takin'  notes,  knows  how  the  sea  exudes  from  the 
Manxmen.  Say  you  ask  if  the  Governor  is  at  home. 
If  he  is  not,  what  is  the  answer?  '-  He's  not  on 
the  island,  sir."  You  inquire  for  the  best  hotel. 
"  So-and-so  is  the  best  hotel  on  the  island,  sir." 
You  go  to  a  Manx  fair  and  hear  a  farmer  selling 
a  cow.  "  Aw,"  says  he,  "  she's  a  ter'ble  gran' 
craythuer  for  milkin',  sir,  and  for  butter  maybe 
there  isn'  the  lek  of  her  on  the  island,  sir."  Coming 
out  of  church  you  listen  to  the  talk  of  two  old 
Manxwomen  discussing  the  preacher.  "  Well, 
well,  ma'am,  well,  well  !  Aw,  the  voice  at  him 
and  the  prayers  !  and  the  beautiful  texes  !  There 
isn'  the  lek  of  him  on  the  island  at  all,  at  all  '  " 
Always  the  island,  the  island,  the  island,  or  else 


4  THE  LITTLE   MANX  NATION  [lect.  i 

the  boats,  and  going  out  to  the  herrings.  The  sea 
is  always  present.  You  feel  it,  you  hear  it,  you 
see  it,  you  can  never  forget  it.  It  dominates  you. 
Manxmen  are  all  sea-folk. 

You  will  think  this  implies  that  Manxmen  stick 
close  to  their  island.  They  do  more  than  that.  I 
will  tell  you  a  story.  Five  years  ago  I  went  up 
into  the  mountains  to  seek  an  old  Manx  bard,  last  of 
a  race  of  whom  I  shall  have  something  to  tell  you 
in  their  turn.  All  his  life  he  had  been  a  poet.  I 
did  not  gather  that  he  had  read  any  poetry  except 
his  own.  Up  to  seventy  he  had  been  a  bachelor. 
Then  this  good  Boaz  had  lit  on  his  Ruth  and 
married,  and  had  many  children.  I  found  him  in 
a  lonely  glen,  peopled  only  in  story,  and  then  by 
fairies.  A  bare  hill  side,  not  a  bush  in  sight,  a 
dead  stretch  of  sea  in  front,  rarely  brightened  by  a 
sail.  I  had  come  through  a  blinding  hail-storm. 
The  old  man  was  sitting  in  the  chimney  nook,  a 
little  red  shawl  round  his  head  and  knotted  under 
his  chin.  Within  this  aureole  his  face  was  as 
strong  as  Savonarola's,  long  and  gaunt,  and  with 
skin  stretched  over  it  like  parchment.  He  was  no 
hermit,  but  a  farmer,  and  had  lived  on  that  land, 
man  and  boy,  nearly  ninety  years.      He  had   never 


lect.  i]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  5 

been  off  the  island,  and  had  strange  notions  of  the 
rest  of  the  world.  Talked  of  England,  London, 
theatres,  palaces,  king's  entertainments,  evening 
parties.  He  saw  them  all  through  the  mists  of 
rumour,  and  by  the  light  of  his  Bible.  He 
had  strange  notions,  some  of  them  bad  shots  for 
the  truth,  some  of  them  startlingly  true.  I  dare 
not  tell  you  what  they  were.  A  Royal  Institution 
audience  would  be  aghast.  They  had,  as  a  whole, 
a  strong  smell  of  sulphur.  But  the  old  bard  was 
not  merely  an  islander,  he  belonged  to  his  land 
more  than  his  land  belonged  to  him.  The  fishing 
town  nearest  to  his  farm  was  Peel,  the  great  fishing 
centre  on  the  west  coast.  It  was  only  five  miles 
away.  I  asked  how  long  it  was  since  he  had  been 
there  ?  "  Fifteen  years,"  he  answered.  The  next 
nearest  town  was  the  old  capital,  on  the  east 
coast,  Castletown,  the  home  of  the  Governor,  of  the 
last  of  the  Manx  lords,  the  place  of  the  Castle, 
the  Court,  the  prison,  the  garrison,  the  College. 
It  was  just  six  miles  away.  How  long  was  it  since 
he  had  been  there  ?  "  Twenty  years."  The  new 
capital,  Douglas,  the  heart  of  the  island,  its  point  of 
touch  with  the  world,  was  nine  miles  away.  How 
long  since  he  had  been  in  Douglas  ?    "  Sixty  years," 


6  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lect.  i 

said  the  old  bard.  God  bless  him,  the  sweet,  dear 
old  soul !  Untaught,  narrow,  self-centred,  bred  on 
his  byre  like  his  bullocks,  but  keeping  his  soul  alive 
for  all  that,  caring  not  a  ha'porth  for  the  things  of 
the  world,  he  was  a  true  Manxman,  and  I'm  proud  of 
him.  One  thing  I  have  to  thank  him  for.  But  for 
him,  and  the  like  of  him,  we  should  not  be  here  to-day. 
It  is  not  the  cultured  Manxman,  the  Manxman  that 
goes  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  that  makes  the  Manx 
nation  valuable  to  study.  Our  race  is  what  it  is 
by  virtue  of  the  Manxman  who  has  had  no  life 
outside  Man,  and  so  has  kept  alive  our  language, 
our  customs,  our  laws  and  our  patriarchal  Con- 
stitution. 

Our  Island 

It  lies  in  the  middle  of  the  Irish  Sea,  at  about 
equal  distances  from  England,  Ireland,  Scotland,  and 
Wales.  Seen  from  the  sea  it  is  a  lovely  thing  to 
look  upon.  It  never  fails  to  bring  me  a  thrill  of 
the  heart  as  it  comes  out  of  the  distance.  It  lies 
like  a  bird  on  the  waters.  You  see  it  from  end  to 
end,  and  from  water's  edge  to  topmost  peak,  often 
enshrouded  in  mists,  a  dim  ghost   on   a  grey  sea  ; 


lect.  i]  THE  LITTLE  MANX   NATION  7 

sometimes  purple  against  the  setting  sun.     Then  as 
you  sail  up  to  it,  a  rugged  rocky  coast,  grand  in  its 
beetling  heights  on  the  south  and  west,  and  broken 
into    the    sweetest    bays    everywhere.      The   water 
clear   as   crystal    and    blue    as    the   sky  in  summer. 
You    can    see   the    shingle    and   the    moss   through 
many   fathoms.      Then    mountains    within,    not    in 
peaks,    but    round   foreheads.      The    colour   of  the 
island  is  green   and   gold  ;   its   flavour  is  that   of  a 
nut.      Both  colour  and   flavour  come  of  the  gorse. 
This    covers    the    mountains    and    moorlands,    for, 
except  on  the  north,  the  island  has  next  to  no  trees. 
But  O,  the  beauty  and  delight  of  it  in  the  Spring  ! 
Long,  broad  stretches  glittering  under  the  sun  with 
the  gold   of  the  gorse,  and   all  the   air  full   of  the 
nutty    perfume.      There    is    nothing   like    it    in    the 
world.      Then    the    glens,    such    fairy   spots,   deep, 
solemn,  musical  with  the  slumberous  waters,  clad 
in  dark  mosses,  brightened  Dy  the  red  fuchsia.    The 
fuchsia  is  everywhere  where  the  gorse  is  not.      At 
the  cottage  doors,  by  the  waysides,  in  the  gardens. 
If  the  gorse  should  fail  the  fuchsia  might  even   take 
its  place   on   the   mountains.      Such   is   Man,  but   I 
am  partly  conscious  that   it   is   Man   as  seen   by  a 
Manxman.    You  want  a  drop  of  Manx  blood  in  you 


8  ItlE  LITTLE  MANX   NATION  [lect.  j 

to  see  it  aright.  Then  you  may  go  the  earth  over 
and  see  grander  things  a  thousand  times,  things 
more  sublime  and  beautiful,  but  you  will  come 
back  to  Manxland  and  tramp  the  Mull  Hills  in 
May,  long  hour  in,  and  long  hour  out,  and  look 
at  the  flowering  gorse  and  sniff  its  flavour,  or  lie 
by  the  chasms  and  listen  to  the  screams  of  the  sea- 
birds,  as  they  whirl  and  dip  an«r  dart  and  skim  over 
the  Sugar-loaf  Rock,  and  you'll  say  after  all  that 
God  has  smiled  on  our  little  island,  and  that  it  is 
the  fairest  spot  in  His  beautiful  world,  and,  above 
all,  that  it  is  ours. 

The  Name  of  our  Island 

This  is  a  matter  in  dispute  among  philologists 
and  I  am  no  authority.  Some  say  that  Caesar 
meant  the  Isle  of  Man  when  he  spoke  of  Mona  ; 
others  say  he  meant  Anglesea.  The  present  name 
is  modern.  So  is  Elian  Vannin,  its  Manx  equiva- 
lent. In  the  Icelandic  Sagas  the  island  is  called 
Mon.  Elsewhere  it  is  called  Eubonia.  One 
historian  thinks  the  island  derives  its  name  from 
Mannin — in  being  an  old  Celtic  word  for  island, 
therefore   Meadhon-in   (pronounced   Mannin)  would 


lect.i]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  9 

signify :  The  middle  island.  That  definition  re- 
quires that  the  Manxman  had  no  hand  in  naming 
Man.  He  would  never  think  of  describing  its 
geographical  situation  on  the  sea.  Manxmen  say 
the  island  got  its  name  from  a  mythical  personage 
called  Mannanan-Beg-Mac-y-Learr,  Little  Mannanan, 
son  of  Learr.  This  man  was  a  sort  of  Prospero,  a 
magician,  and  the  island's  first  ruler.  The  story 
goes  that  if  he  dreaded  an  enemy  he  would  en- 
shroud the  island  in  mist,  "  and  that  by  art  magic." 
Happy  island,  where  such  faith  could  ever  exist ! 
Modern  science  knows  that  mist,  and  where  it 
comes  from. 

Our  History 

It  falls  into  three  periods,  first,  a  period  of  Celtic 
rule,  second  of  Norse  rule,  third  of  English 
dominion.  Manx  history  is  the  history  of  sur- 
rounding nations.  We  have  no  Sagas  of  our  own 
heroes.  The  Sagas  are  all  of  our  conquerors. 
Save  for  our  first  three  hundred  recorded  years  we 
have  never  been  masters  in  our  own  house.  The  first 
chapter  of  our  history  has  yet  to  be  written.  We 
know  we   were   Celts   to   begin    with,  but    how    wc 


io  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lkct.  i 

came  we  have  never  learnt,  whether  we  walked 
dry-shod  from  Wales  or  sailed  in  boats  from  Ire- 
land. To  find  out  the  facts  of  our  early  history 
would  be  like  digging  up  the  island  of  Prospero. 
Perhaps  we  had  better  leave  it  alone.  Ten  to  one 
we  were  a  gang  of  political  exiles.  Perhaps  we 
left  our  country  for  our  country's  good.  Be  it  so. 
It  was  the  first  and  last  time  that  it  could  be  said 
of  us. 

King  Orry 

Early  in  the  sixth  century  Man  became  subject  to 
the  kings  and  princes  of  Wales,  who  ruled  from 
Anglesea.  There  were  twelve  of  them  in  succession, 
and  the  last  of  them  fell  in  the  tenth  century.  We 
know  next  to  nothing  about  them  but  their  names. 
Then  came  the  Vikings.  The  young  bloods  of  Scandi- 
navia had  newly  established  their  Norse  kingdom  in 
Iceland,  and  were  huckstering  and  sea  roving  about 
the  Baltic  and  among  the  British  Isles.  They  had 
been  to  the  Orkneys  and  Shetlands,  and  Faroes, 
perhaps  to  Ireland,  certainly  to  the  coast  of  Cum- 
berland, making  Scandinavian  settlements  every- 
where.     So  they  came  to   Mun   early  in   the  tenth 


lect.  i]  THE  LITTLE   MANX  NATION  n 

century,  led  by  one  Orry,  or  Gorree.  Some  say 
this  man  was  nothing  but  a  common  sea-rover. 
Others  say  he  was  a  son  of  the  Danish  or  Nor- 
wegian monarch.  It  does  not  matter  much.  Orry 
had  a  better  claim  to  regard  than  that  of  the  son  of 
a  great  king.  He  was  himself  a  great  man.  The 
story  of  his  first  landing  is  a  stirring  thing.  It  was 
night,  a  clear,  brilliant,  starry  night,  all  the  dark 
heavens  lit  up.  Orry's  ships  were  at  anchor 
behind  him  ;  and  with  his  men  he  had  touched  the 
beach,  when  down  came  the  Celts  to  face  him,  and 
to  challenge  him.  They  demanded  to  know  where 
he  came  from.  Then  the  red-haired  sea- warrior 
pointed  to  the  milky  way  going  off  towards  the 
North.  "  That  is  the  way  of  my  country,"  he 
answered.  The  Celts  went  down  like  one  man  in 
awe  before  him.  He  was  their  born  king.  It  is 
what  the  actors  call  a  fine  moment.  Still,  nobody 
has  ever  told  us  how  Orry  and  the  Celts  under- 
stood one  another,  speaking  different  tongues.  Let 
us  not  ask. 

King  Orry  had  come  to  stay,  and  sea-warriors 
do  not  usually  bring  their  women  over  tempestuous 
seas.  So  the  Norsemen  married  the  Celtic  women, 
and  from  that  union  came  the  Manx  people.      Thus 


12  THE  LITTLE  MANX   NATION  [lect.  i 

the  Manxman  to  begin  with  was  half  Norse,  half 
Celt.  He  is  much  the  same  still.  Manxmen 
usually  marry  Manx  women,  and  when  they  do  not, 
they  often  marry  Cumberland  women.  As  the 
Norseman  settled  in  Cumberland  as  well  as  in  Man 
the  race  is  not  seriously  affected  either  way.  So 
the  Manxman,  such  as  he  is,  taken  all  the  centuries 
through,  is  thoroughbred. 

Now  what  King  Orry  did  in  the  Isle  of  Man 
was  the  greatest  work  that  ever  was  done  there. 
He  established  our  Constitution.  It  was  on  the 
model  of  the  Constitution  just  established  in  Iceland. 
The  government  was  representative  and  patriarchal. 
The  Manx  people  being  sea-folk,  living  by  the  sea, 
a  race  of  fishermen  and  sea-rovers,  he  divided  the 
island  into  six  ship-shires,  now  called  Sheadings. 
Each  ship-shire  elected  four  men  to  an  assemblage 
of  law-makers.  This  assemblage,  equivalent  to  the 
Icelandic  Logretta,  was  called  the  House  of  Keys. 
There  is  no  saying  what  the  word  means.  Prof. 
Rhys  thinks  it  is  derived  from  the  Manx  name 
Iliare-as-Feed,  meaning  the  four-and-twenty. 
Train  says  the  representatives  were  called  Taxiaxi 
signifying  pledges  or  hostages,  and  consequently 
were   styled    Keys.      Vigfusson's   theory  was   that 


lect.  i]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  13 

Keys  is  from  the  Norse  word  Kcisc,  or  chosen 
men.  The  common  Manx  notion,  the  idea  familiar 
to  my  own  boyhood,  is,  that  the  twenty-four 
members  of  the  House  of  Keys  are  the  twenty-four 
material  keys  whereby  the  closed  doors  of  the  law 
are  unlocked.  But  besides  the  sea-folk  of  the 
ship-shires  King  Orry  remembered  the  Church. 
He  found  it  on  the  island  at  his  coming,  left  it 
where  he  found  it,  and  gave  it  a  voice  in  the 
government.  He  established  a  Tynwald  Court, 
equivalent  to  the  Icelandic  All  Moot,  where  Church 
and  State  sat  together.  Then  he  appointed  two 
law-men,  called  Deemsters,  one  for  the  north  and 
the  other  for  the  south.  These  were  equivalent  to 
his  Icelandic  Logsogumadur,  speaker  of  the  law 
and  judge  of  all  offences.  Finally,  he  caused  to  be 
built  an  artificial  Mount  of  Laws,  similar  in  its 
features  to  the  Icelandic  Logberg  at  Thingvellir. 
Such  was  the  machinery  of  the  Norse  Constitution 
which  King  Orry  established  in  Man.  The  work- 
ing of  it  was  very  simple.  The  House  of  Keys, 
the  people's  delegates,  discussed  all  questions  of 
interest  to  the  people,  and  sent  up  its  desires  to 
the  Tynwald  Court.  This  assembly  of  people  and 
Church  in  joint  session  assented,  and  the  desires  ot 


i4  THE  LITTLE  MANX   NATION  [i.ect.  i 

the  people  became  Acts  of  Tynwald.  These  Acts 
were  submitted  to  the  King.  Having  obtained  the 
King's  sanction  they  were  promulgated  on  the 
Tynwald  Hill  on  the  national  day  in  the  presence 
of  the  nation.  The  scene  of  that  promulgation  of 
the  laws  was  stirring  and  impressive.  Let  me 
describe  it. 

The  Tynwald 

Perhaps  there  were  two  Tynwald  Hills  in  King 
Orry's  time,  but  I  shall  assume  that  there  was  one 
only.  It  stood  somewhere  about  midway  in  the 
island.  In  the  heart  of  a  wide  range  of  hill  and 
dale,  with  a  long  valley  to  the  south,  a  hill  to  the 
north,  a  table-land  to  the  cast,  and  to  the  west  the 
broad  Irish  Sea.  Not,  of  course,  a  place  to  be 
compared  with  the  grand  and  gloomy  valley  of  the 
Logberg,  where  in  a  vast  amphitheatre  of  dark  hills 
and  great  jokulls  tipped  with  snow,  with  deep 
chasms  and  yawning  black  pits,  one's  heart  stands 
still.  But  the  place  of  the  Manx  Tynwald  was  an 
impressive  spot.  The  Hill  itself  was  a  circular 
mount  cut  into  broad  steps,  the  apex  being  only  a 
few   feet    in   diameter.      About   it   was  a  flat  grass 


i.ect.  i]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  15 

plot.  Near  it,  just  a  hundred  and  forty  yards 
away,  connected  with  the  mount  by  a  beaten  path, 
was  a  chapel.  All  around  was  bare  and  solitary, 
perhaps  as  bleak  and  stark  as  the  lonely  plains  of 
Thingvellir. 

Such  was  the  scene.  Hither  came  the  King  and 
his  people  on  Tynwald  Day.  It  fell  on  the 
24th  of  June,  the  first  of  the  seven  days  of  the 
Icelandic  gathering  of  the  Althing.  What  occurred 
in  Iceland  occurred  also  in  Man.  The  King  with 
his  Keys  and  his  clergy  gathered  in  the  chapel. 
Thence  they  passed  in  procession  to  the  law-rock. 
On  the  top  round  of  the  Tynwald  the  King  sat  on 
a  chair  and  faced  to  the  east.  His  sword  was  held 
before  him,  point  upwards.  His  barons  and 
beneficed  men,  his  deemsters,  knights,  esquires, 
coroners,  and  yeomen,  stood  on  the  lower  steps  of 
the  mount.  On  the  grass  plot  beyond  the  people 
were  gathered  in  crowds.  Then  the  work  of  the 
day  began.  The  coroners  proclaimed  a  warning. 
No  man  should  make  disturbance  at  Tynwald  on 
pain  of  death.  Then  the  Acts  of  Tynwald  were 
read  or  recited  aloud  by  the  deemsters  ;  first  in  the 
language  of  the  laws,  and  next  in  the  language  of 
the  people.      After  other  formalities  the  procession 


16  THE  LITTLE  MANX   NATION  [tier.  I 

of  the  King  returned  to  the  chapel,  where  the  laws 
were  signed  and  attested,  and  so  the  annual 
Tynwald  ended. 

Now  this  primitive  ceremonial,  begun  by  King 
Orry  early  in  the  tenth  century,  is  observed  to  this 
day.  On  Midsummer-day  of  this  year  of  grace  a 
ceremony  similar  in  all  its  essentials  will  be 
observed  by  the  present  Governor,  his  Keys,  clergy, 
deemsters,  coroners,  and  people,  on  or  near  the 
same  spot.  It  is  the  old  Icelandic  ordinance,  but  it 
has  gone  from  Iceland.  The  year  1800  saw  the 
last  of  it  on  the  lava  law-rock  of  Thingvellir.  It  is 
gone  from  every  other  Norse  kingdom  founded  by 
the  old  sea-rovers  among  the  Western  Isles. 
Manxmen  alone  have  held  on  to  it.  Shall  we  also 
let  it  go  ?  Shall  we  laugh  at  it  as  a  bit  of  mummery 
that  is  useless  in  an  age  of  books  and  newspapers, 
and  foolish  and  pompous  in  days  of  frock-coats 
and  chimney-pot  hats  ?  I  think  not.  We  cannot 
afford  to  lose  it.  Remember,  it  is  the  last  visible 
sign  of  our  independence  as  a  nation.  It  is  our 
hand-grasp  with  the  past.  Our  little  nation  is  the 
only  Norse  nation  now  on  earth  that  can  shake 
hands  with  the  days  of  the  Sagas,  and  the  Sea- 
Kings.      Then     let     him    who    will    laugh    at    our 


lect.  i]  THE   LITTLE  MANX  NATION  17 

primitive  ceremonial.  It  is  the  badge  of  our 
ancient  liberty,  and  we  need  not  envy  the  man  who 
can  look  on  it  unmoved. 


The  Lost  Saga 

Of  King  Orry  himself  we  learn  very  little.  He 
was  not  only  the  first  of  our  kings,  but  also  the 
greatest.  We  may  be  sure  of  that  ;  first,  by  what 
we  know  ;  and  next,  by  what  we  do  not  know.  He 
was  a  conqueror,  and  yet  we  do  not  learn  that  he 
ever  attempted  to  curtail  the  liberties  of  his  sub- 
jects. He  found  us  free  men,  and  did  not  try  to 
make  us  slaves.  On  the  contrary,  he  gave  us  a 
representative  Constitution,  which  has  lasted  a 
thousand  years.  We  might  call  him  our  Manx 
King  Alfred,  if  the  indirections  of  history  did  not 
rather  tempt  us  to  christen  him  our  Manx  King 
Lear.  His  Saga  has  never  been  written,  or  else  it 
is  lost.  Would  that  we  could  recover  it !  Oh,  that 
imagination  had  the  authority  of  history  to  vitalise 
the  old  man  and  his  times  !  I  seem  to  see  him  as 
he  lived.  There  are  hints  of  his  character  in  his 
laws,  that  are  as  stage  directions,  telling  of  the 
entrances  and  exits  of  his  people,  though  the  drama 

B 


18  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [i.ect.i 

of  their  day  is  gone.  For  example,  in  that  pre- 
liminaiy  warning  of  the  coroner  at  Tynwald,  there 
is  a  clause  which  says  that  none  shall  "  bawl  or 
quarrel  or  lye  or  lounge  or  sit."  '  Do  you  not  see 
what  that  implies  ?  Again,  there  is  another  clause 
which  forbids  any  man,  "  on  paine  of  life  and  lyme," 
to  make  disturbance  or  stir  in  the  time  of  Tynwald, 
or  any  murmur  or  rising  in  the  king's  presence. 
Can  you  not  read  between  the  lines  of  that  edict  ? 
Once  more,  no  inquest  of  a  deemster,  no  judge  or 
jury,  was  necessary  to  the  death-sentence  of  a  man 
who  rose  against  the  king  or  his  governor  on  his 
seat  on  Tynwald.  Nobody  can  miss  the  meaning 
of  that.  Once  again,  it  was  a  common  right  of  the 
people  to  present  petitions  at  Tynwald,  a  common 
privilege  of  persons  unjustly  punished  to  appeal 
against  judgment,  and  a  common  prerogative  of  out- 
laws to  ask  at  the  foot  of  the  Tynwald  Mount  on 
Tynwald  Day  for  the  removal  of  their  outlawry. 
All  these  old  rights  and  regulations  came  from 
Iceland,  and  by  the  help  of  the  Sagas  it  needs 
no  special  imagination  to  make  the  scenes  of  their 
action  live  again.  I  seem  to  see  King  Orry  sitting 
on  his  chair  on  the  Tynwald  with  his  face  towards 
he    east.       He     has    long    given    up    sea-roving. 


lect.  i]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  19 

His  long  red  hair  is  become  grey  or  white. 
But  the  old  lion  has  the  muscles  and  fiery  eye  of 
the  warrior  still.  His  deemsters  and  barons  are 
about  him,  and  his  people  are  on  the  sward  below. 
They  are  free  men  ;  they  mean  to  have  their  rights, 
both  from  him  and  from  each  other.  Disputes  run 
high,  there  are  loud  voices,  mighty  oaths,  sometimes 
blows,  fights,  and  terrific  hurly-burlies.  Then  old 
Orry  comes  down  with  a  great  voice  and  a  sword, 
and  ploughs  a  way  through  the  fighters  and  scatters 
them.  No  man  dare  lift  his  hand  on  the  king-. 
Peace  is  restored,  and  the  king  goes  back  to  his 
seat. 

Then  up  from  the  valley  comes  a  woe-begone 
man  in  tatters,  grim  and  gaunt  and  dirty,  a  famished 
and  hunted  wolf.  He  is  an  outlaw,  has  killed 
a  man,  is  pursued  in  a  blood-feud,  and  asks  for 
relief  of  his  outlawry.  And  so  on  and  so  on,  a 
scene  of  rugged,  lusty  passions,  hate  and  revenge, 
but  also  love  and  brotherhood  ;  drinking,  laughing, 
swearing,  fighting,  savage  vices  but  also  savage 
virtues,  noble  contempt  of  death,  and  magnificent 
self-sacrifice. 

The  chapter  is  lost,  but  we  know  what  it  must 
have  been.      King  Orry  was  its  hero.      Our   Manx 


20  THE   LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lect.  i 

Alfred,  our  Manx  Arthur,  our   Manx   Lear.      Then 
room  for  him  among  our  heroes  !    he  must   stand 


high. 


The  Manx  Macbeth 

The  line  of  Orry  came  to  an  end  at  the  beginning 
of  the  eleventh  century.  Scotland  was  then  under 
the  sway  of  the  tyrant  Macbeth,  and,  oddly  enough, 
a  parallel  tragedy  to  that  of  Duncan  and  his  kinsman 
was  being  enacted  in  Man.  A  son  of  Harold  the 
Black,  of  Iceland,  Goddard  Crovan,  a  mighty  sol- 
dier, conquered  the  island  and  took  the  crown  by 
treachery,  coming  first  as  a  guest  of  the  Manx  king. 
Treachery  breeds  treachery,  duplicity  is  a  bad  seed 
to  sow  for  loyalty,  and  the  Manx  people  were 
divided  in  their  allegiance.  About  twenty  years  after 
Crovan's  conquest  the  people  of  the  south  of  the 
island  took  up  arms  against  the  people  of  the  north, 
and  the  story  goes  that,  when  victory  wavered,  the 
women  of  the  north  rushed  out  to  the  help  of  their 
husbands,  and  so  won  the  fight.  For  that  day's 
work,  the  northern  wives  were  given  the  right  to 
half  of  all  their  husband's  goods  immovable,  while 
the  wives  of  the  south  had  only  a  third.      The  last 


lect.  i]  THE  LITTLE  MANX   NATION  21 

of  the  line  of  Goddard  Crovan  died  in  1265,  and 
so  ended  the  dynasty  of  the  Norsemen  in  Man. 
They  had  been  three  hundred  years  there.  They 
found  us  a  people  of  the  race  and  language  of  the 
people  of  Ireland,  and  they  left  us  Manxmen. 
They  were  our  only  true  Manx  kings,  and  when 
they  fell,  our  independence  as  a  nation  ceased. 


The  Manx  Glo'ster 

Then  the  first  pretender  to  the  throne  was  one 
Ivar,  a  murderer,  a  sort  of  Richard  III.,  not  all  bad, 
but  nearly  all ;  said  to  possess  virtues  enough  to 
save  the  island  and  vices  enough  to  ruin  it.  The 
island  was  surrendered  to  Scotland  by  treaty  with 
Norway.  The  Manx  hated  the  Scotch.  They  knew 
them  as  a  race  of  pirates.  Some  three  centuries 
later  there  was  one  Cutlar  MacCullock,  whose  name 
was  a  terror,  so  merciless  were  his  ravages.  Over 
the  cradles  of  their  infants  the  Manx  mothers  sang 
this  song  : — 

God  keep  the  good  corn,  the  sheep  and  the  bullocks, 
From  Satan,  from  sin  and  from  Cutlar  MacCullock. 

Bad  as  Ivar  was,  the  Scotch  threatened  to  be  worse. 


22  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lect.  i 

So  the  Manx,  fearing  that  their  kingdom  might 
become  a  part  of  the  kingdom  of  Scotland,  sup- 
ported Ivar.  They  were  beaten.  Ivar  was  a  brave 
tiger,  and  died  fighting. 


Scotch  and  English  Dominion 


Man  was  conquered,  and  the  King  of  Scotland 
appointed  a  lieutenant  to  rule  the  island.  But  the 
Manx  loved  the  Scotch  no  better  as  masters  than 
as  pirates,  and  they  petitioned  the  English  king, 
Edward  I.,  to  take  them  under  his  protection.  He 
came,  and  the  Scotch  were  driven  out.  But  King 
Robert  Bruce  reconquered  the  island  for  the  Scotch. 
Yet  again  the  island  fell  to  English  dominion. 
This  was  in  the  time  of  Henry  IV.  It  is  a  sorry 
story.  Henry  gave  the  island  to  the  Earl  of 
Salisbury.  Salisbury  sold  it  to  one  Sir  William  le 
Scroop.  A  copy  of  the  deed  of  sale  exists.  It 
puts  a  Manxman's  teeth  on  edge.  "  With  all  the 
right  of  being  crowned  with  a  golden  crown." 
Scroop  was  beheaded  by  Henry,  who  confiscated 
his  estate,  and  gave  the  island  to  the  Earl  of 
Northumberland.  It  is  a  silly  inventory,  but  let  us 
yet  through  with  it.     Northumberland  was  banished, 


lect.  i]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  23 

and  finally  Henry  made  a  grant  of  the  island  to  Sir 
John  de  Stanley.  This  was  in  1407.  Thus  there 
had  been  four  Kings  of  Man — not  one  of  whom  had, 
so  far  as  I  know,  set  foot  on  its  soil — three  grants 
of  the  island,  and  one  miserable  sale.  Where  the 
carcase  is,  there  will  the  eagles  be  gathered  to- 
gether. 

The  Stanley  Dynasty 

When  the  crown  came  to  Sir  John  Stanley  he 
was  in  no  hurry  to  put  it  on.  He  paid  no  heed  to 
his  Manx  subjects,  and  never  saw  his  Manx  king- 
dom. I  dare  say  he  thought  the  gift  horse  was 
something  of  a  white  elephant.  No  wonder  if  he 
did,  for  words  could  not  exaggerate  the  wretched 
condition  of  the  island  and  its  people.  The  houses 
of  the  poor  were  hovels  built  of  sod,with  floors  of  clay, 
and  sooty  rafters  of  briar  and  straw  and  dried  gorsc. 
The  people  were  hardly  better  fed  than  their  beasts. 
So  Stanley  left  the  island  alone.  It  will  be  in- 
teresting to  mark  how  different  was  the  mood  of 
his  children,  and  his  children's  children.  The 
second  Stanley  went  over  to  Man  and  did  good 
work  there.      He  promulgated   our  laws,   and    had 


24  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lect.  i 

them  written  down  for  the  first  time — they  had 
hitherto  been  locked  in  the  breasts  of  the  deem- 
sters in  imitation  of  the  practice  of  the  Druids. 
The  line  of  the  Stanleys  lasted  more  than  three 
hundred  years.  Their  rule  was  good  for  the  island. 
They  gave  the  tenants  security  of  tenure,  and 
the  landowners  an  act  of  settlement.  They  lifted 
the  material  condition  of  our  people,  gave  us  the 
enjoyment  of  our  venerable  laws,  and  ratified  our 
patriarchal  Constitution.  Honour  to  the  Stanleys 
of  the  Manx  dynasty  !  They  have  left  a  good  mark 
on  Man. 

Iliam  Dhoan 

And  now  I  come  to  the  one  incident  in  modern 
Manx  history  which  shares,  with  the  three  legs  of 
Man  and  the  Manx  cat,  the  consciousness  of  every- 
body who  knows  anything  about  our  island  and  its 
people.  This  is  the  incident  of  the  betrayal  of 
Man  and  the  Stanleys  to  the  Parliament  in  the  time 
of  Cromwell.  It  was  a  stirring  drama,  and  though 
the  curtain  has  long  fallen  on  it,  the  dark  stage  is 
still  haunted  by  the  ghosts  of  its  characters.  Chief 
among  these  was  William   Christian,  the  Manxman 


lzct.  i]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  25 

called  Iliam  Dhoan,  Brown  William,  a  familiar 
name  that  seems  to  hint  of  a  fine  type  of  man. 
You  will  find  him  in  "  Peveril  of  the  Peak."  He 
is  there  mixed  up  with  Edward  Christian,  a  very 
different  person,  just  as  Peel  Castle  is  mixed  up 
with  Castle  Rushen,  consciously  no  doubt,  and  with 
an  eye  to  imaginative  effects,  for  Scott  had  a  brother 
in  the  Isle  of  Man  who  could  have  kept  him  from 
error  if  fact  had  been  of  any  great  consequence  in 
the  novelist's  reckoning. 

Christian  was  Receiver-General,  a  sort  of 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  for  the  great  Earl  of 
Derby.  The  Earl  had  faith  in  him,  and  put  nearly 
everything  under  his  command  that  fell  within  the 
province  of  his  lordship.  Then  came  the  struggle 
with  Rigby  at  Latham  House,  and  the  imprisonment 
of  the  Earl's  six  children  by  Fairfax.  The  Manx 
were  against  the  Parliament,  and  subscribed  £s°°> 
probably  the  best  part  of  the  money  in  the  island, 
in  support  of  the  king.  Then  the  Earl  of  Derby 
left  the  island  with  a  body  of  volunteers,  and  in 
going  away  committed  his  wife  to  the  care  of 
Christian.  You  know  what  happened  to  him.  He 
was  taken  prisoner  in  Lancashire,  charged  with 
bearing   arms  for  Charles   Stuart    and   holding  the 


26  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lect.  i 

Isle  of  Man  against  the  Commons,  condemned,  and 
executed  at  Bolton. 

With  the  forfeiture  of  the  Earl  the  lordship  of 
the  island  was  granted  by  Parliament  to  Lord 
Fairfax.  He  sent  an  army  to  take  possession,  but 
the  Countess-Dowager  still  held  the  island. 
Christian  commanded  the  Manx  militia.  At  this 
moment  the  Manx  people  showed  signs  of  disaffec- 
tion. They  suddenly  remembered  two  grievances, 
one  was  a  grievance  of  land  tenure,  the  other  was 
that  a  troop  of  soldiers  was  kept  at  free  quarterage. 
I  cannot  but  wish  they  had  bethought  them  of  both 
a  little  earlier.  They  formed  an  association,  and 
broke  into  rebellion  against  the  Countess-Dowager 
within  eight  days  of  the  Earl's  execution.  Perhaps 
they  did  not  know  of  the  Earl's  death,  for  news 
travelled  slowly  over  sea  in  those  days.  But  at 
least  they  knew  of  his  absence.  As  a  Manxman  I 
am  not  proud  of  them. 

During  these  eight  days  Mr.  Receiver-General 
had  begun  to  trim  his  sails.  He  had  a  lively  wit, 
and  saw  which  way  things  were  going.  Rumour 
says  he  was  at  the  root  of  the  secret  association. 
Be  that  as  it  may,  he  carried  the  demands  of  the 
people  to  the  Countess.      Sac  had  no  choice  but   to 


lect.  i]  TllE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  27 

yield.      The  troops  were  disbanded.      It  was  a  bad 
victory. 

A  fortnight  before,  when  her  husband  lay  under 
his  death  sentence,  the  Countess  had  offered  the 
island  in  exchange  for  his  life.  So  now  Mr. 
Receiver-General  used  this  act  of  love  against  her. 
He  seized  some  of  the  forts,  saying  the  Countess 
was  selling  the  island  to  the  Parliament.  Then  the 
army  of  the  Parliament  landed,  and  Christian 
straightway  delivered  the  island  up  to  it,  protesting 
that  he  had  taken  the  forts  on  its  behalf.  Some 
say  the  Countess  was  imprisoned  in  the  vaults  of 
the  Castle.  Others  say  she  had  a  free  pass  to 
England.      So  ended  act  one. 

When  the  act-drop  rose  on  act  two,  Mr.  Receiver- 
General  was  in  office  under  the  Parliament.  From 
the  place  of  Receiver-General  he  was  promoted  to 
the  place  of  Governor.  He  had  then  the  money  of 
the  island  under  his  control,  and  he  used  it  badly. 
Deficits  were  found  in  his  accounts.  He  fled  to 
London,  was  arrested  for  a  large  debt,  and  clapped 
into  the  Fleet.  Then  the  Commonwealth  fell,  the 
Dowager  Countess  went  upstairs  again,  and  Charles 
II.  restored  the  son  of  the  great  Earl  to  the  lordship 
of  Man.      After  that  came  the  Act  of  Indemnity,  a 


28  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lect.  i 

general  pardon  for  all  who  had  taken  part  against 
the  royal  cause.  Thereupon  Christian  went  back 
to  the  Isle  of  Man,  was  arrested  on  a  charge  of 
treason  to  the  Countess-Dowager  of  Derby,  pleaded 
the  royal  act  of  general  pardon  against  all  proceed- 
ings libelled  against  him,  was  tried  by  the  House  of 
Keys,  and  condemned  to  death.  So  ended  act 
two. 

Christian  had  a  nephew,  Edward  Christian,  who 
was  one  of  the  two  deemsters.  This  man  dis- 
sented from  the  voice  of  the  court,  and  hastened 
to  London  to  petition  the  king.  Charles  is  said  to 
have  heard  his  plea,  and  to  have  sent  an  order  to 
suspend  sentence.  Some  say  the  order  came  too 
late  ;  some  say  the  Governor  had  it  early  enough 
and  ignored  it.  At  all  events  Christian  was  shot. 
He  protested  that  he  had  never  been  anything  but 
a  faithful  servant  to  the  Derbys,  and  made  a  brave 
end.  The  place  of  his  execution  was  Hango  Hill, 
a  bleak,  bare  stretch  of  land  with  the  broad  sea  under 
it.  The  soldiers  wished  to  bind  Christian.  "  Trouble 
not  yourselves  for  me,"  he  said,  "  for  I  that  dare 
face  death  in  whatever  shape  he  comes,  will  not 
start  at  your  lire  and  bullets."  He  pinned  a  piece 
of  white  paper  on  his  breast,  and  said  :   "  Hit  this, 


lect.i]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  29 

and  you  do  your  own  work  and  mine."  Then  he 
stretched  forth  his  arras  as  a  signal,  was  shot  through 
the  heart,  and  fell.  Such  was  the  end  of  Brown 
William.  He  may  have  been  a  traitor,  but  he  was 
no  coward. 

When  the  chief  actor  in  the  tragedy  had  fallen, 
King  Charles  appeared,  as  Fortinbras  appears  in 
"  Hamlet,"  to  make  a  review  and  a  reckoning,  and 
to  take  the  spoils.  He  ordered  the  Governor,  the 
remaining  Deemsters,  and  three  of  the  Keys  to  be 
brought  before  him,  pronounced  the  execution  of 
Christian  to  be  a  violation  of  his  general  pardon, 
and  imposed  severe  penalties  of  fine  and  imprison- 
ment. "  The  rest "  in  this  drama  has  not  been 
"  silence."  One  long  clamour  has  followed.  Chris- 
tian's guilt  has  been  questioned,  the  legality  of  his 
trial  has  been  disputed,  the  validity  of  Charles's 
censure  of  the  judges  has  been  denied.  The 
case  is  a  mass  of  tangle,  as  every  case  must 
be  that  stands  between  the  two  stools  of  the 
Royal  cause  and  the  Commonwealth.  But  I 
shall  make  bold  to  summarise  the  truth  in  a  very 
few  words  : 

First,  that  Christian  was  untrue  to  the   house  of 
Derby   is  as  clear  as  noonday.      If  he    had    been 


30  THE  LITTLE  MANX   NATION  [iect.i 

their  lo}-al  servant  he  could  never  have  taken  office 
under  the  Parliament. 

Second,  though  untrue  to  the  Countess-Dowager, 
Christian  could  not  be  guilty  of  treason  to  her, 
because  she  had  ceased  to  be  the  sovereign  when  her 
husband  was  executed.  Fairfax  was  then  the  Lord 
of  Man,  and  Christian  was  guilty  of  no  treason  to  him. 

Third,  whether  true  or  untrue  to  the  Countess- 
Dowager,  the  act  of  pardon  had  nothing  on  earth 
to  do  with  Christian,  who  was  not  charged  with 
treason  to  King  Charles,  but  to  the  Manx  reigning 
family.  The  Isle  of  Man  was  not  a  dominion  of 
England,  and  if  Charles's  order  had  arrived  before 
Christian's  execution,  the  Governor,  Keys,  and  Deem- 
ster would  have  been  fully  justified  in  shooting  the 
man  in  defiance  of  the  king. 

I  feel  some  diffidence  in  offering  this  opinion, 
but  I  can  have  none  whatever  in  saying  what  I 
think  of  Christian.  My  fellow  Manxmen  arc  for  the 
most  part  his  ardent  supporters.  They  affirm  his 
innocence,  and  protest  that  he  was  a  martyr-hero, 
declaring  that  at  least  he  met  his  fate  by  asserting 
the  rights  of  his  countiymen.  I  shall  not  hesitate 
to  say  that  I  read  the  facts  another  way.  This  is 
how  I  sec  the  man  : 


lect.  i]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  31 

First,  he  was  a  servant  of  the  DeHrvs,  honoured, 
empowered,  entrusted  with  the  care  of  his  mistress, 
the  Countess,  when  his  master,  the  Earl,  left  the 
island  to  fight  for  the  king.  Second,  eight  days 
after  his  master's  fate,  he  rose  in  rebellion  against 
his  mistress  and  seized  some  of  the  forts  of 
defence.  Third,  he  delivered  the  island  to  the  army 
of  the  Parliament,  and  continued  to  hold  his  office 
under  it.  Fourth,  he  robbed  the  treasury  of  the 
island  and  fled  from  his  new  masters,  the  Parlia- 
ment. Fifth,  when  the  new  master  fell  he  chopped 
round,  became  a  king's  man  once  more,  and 
returned  to  the  island  on  the  strength  of  the  general 
pardon.  Sixth,  when  he  was  condemned  to  death 
he,  who  had  held  office  under  the  Parliament, 
protested  that  he  had  never  been  anything  but  a 
faithful  servant  to  the  Derbys. 

Such  is  Christian.  He  a  hero !  No,  but  a 
poor,  sorry,  knock-kneed  time-server.  A  thing  of 
rags  and  patches.  A  Manx  Vicar  of  Bray.  Let 
us  talk  of  him  as  little  as  we  may,  and  boast  of  him 
not  at  all.  Man  and  Manxmen  have  no  need  ot 
him.  No,  thank  God,  we  can  tell  of  better  men. 
Let  us  turn  his  picture  to  the  wall. 


32  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lect.  i 

The  Athol  Dynasty 

The  last   of  the   Stanleys   of  the   Manx  dynasty 
died  childless  in  1735,  and  then  the  lordship  of  Man 
devolved   by  the  female  line  on  the  second  Duke  of 
Athol    by   right    of   his    grandmother,    who   was    a 
daughter  of  the   great    Earl    of  Derby.      There   is 
little  that  is  good  to  say  of  the  Lords  of  the  House 
of  Athol   except  that  they  sold  the  island.      Almost 
the  first,  and  quite  the  best,  thing  they  did  on  coming 
to   Man,  was  to  try  to  get  out  of  it.      Let  us  make 
no  disguise  of  the  clear  truth.      The   Manx  Athols 
were  bad,  and  nearly  everything  about  them  was  bad. 
Never  was  the  condition  of  the  island   so  abject  as 
during  their  day.      Never  were  the  poor  so  poor. 
Never  was  the   name  of  Manxman  so  deservedly  a 
badge  of  disgrace.      The  chief  dishonour  was  that 
of   the  Athols.      They   kept   a  swashbuckler  court 
in  their  little   Manx  kingdom.      Gentlemen    of  the 
type     of     Barry     Lyndon     overran     it.       Captain 
Macheaths,  Jonathan  Wilds,  and   worse,  were  mas- 
ters  of  the   island,    which    was   now    a    refuge    for 
debtors     and     felons.       Roystering,     philandering, 
gambling,  lighting,   such   was  the  order  of  things. 


lect.  :]  THE   LITTLE  MANX  NATION  33 

What  days  they  had  !  What  nights  !  His  Grace 
of  Athol  was  himself  in  the  thick  of  it  all.  He 
kept  a  deal  of  company,  chiefly  rogues  and  rascals. 
For  example,  among  his  "  lord  captains  "  was  one 
Captain  Fletcher.  This  Blue  Beard  had  a  magni- 
ficent horse,  to  which,  when  he  was  merry,  he 
made  his  wife,  who  was  a  religious  woman,  kneel 
down  and  say  her  prayers.  The  mother  of  my 
friend,  the  Reverend  T.  E.  Brown,  came  upon  the 
dead  body  of  one  of  these  Barry  Lyndons,  who  had 
fallen  in  a  duel,  and  the  blue  mark  was  on  the 
white  forehead,  where  the  pistol  shot  had  been. 
I  remember  to  have  heard  of  another  Sir  Lucius 
O'Trigger,  whose  body  lay  exposed  in  the  hold  of  a 
fishing-smack,  while  a  parson  read  the  burial  service 
from  the  quay.  This  was  some  artifice  to  prevent 
seizure  for  debt.  Oh,  these  good  old  times,  with 
their  soiled  and  dirty  splendours  !  There  was  no 
lively  chronicler,  no  Pepys,  no  Walpole  then,  to 
give  us  a  picture  of  the  Court  of  these  Kings  of 
Man.  What  a  picture  it  must  have  been  !  Can 
you  not  see  it  ?  The  troops  of  gentlemen  debtors 
from  the  Coffee  Houses  of  London,  with  the.ir  periwigs, 
their  canes,  and  fine  linen  ;  down  on  their  luck,  but 
still    berufllcd,    besnuffed,    and    red-heeled.      I    can 

c 


34  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lect.  1 

see  them  strutting  with  noses  up,  through  old 
Douglas  market-place  on  market  morning,  past  the 
Manx  folk  in  their  homespun,  their  curranes  and 
undyed  stockings.  Then  out  at  Mount  Murray,  the 
home  of  the  Athols,  their  imitations  of  Vauxhall, 
torches,  dancings,  bows  and  conges,  bankrupt 
shows,  perhaps,  but  the  bankrupt  Barrys  making 
the  best  of  them — one  seems  to  see  it  all.  And  then 
again,  their  genteel  quarrels— quarrels  were  easily 
bred  in  that  atmosphere.  "  Sir,  I  have  the  honour 
to  tell  you  that  you  arc  a  pimp,  lately  escaped  from 
the  Fleet."  "  My  lord,  permit  me  to  say  that 
you  lie,  that  you  are  the  son  of  a  lady,  and 
were  born  in  a  sponging-house."  Then  out  leapt 
the  weapons,  and  presently  two  men  were  crossing" 
swords  under  the  trees,  and  by-and-by  one  of 
them  was  left  under  the  moonlight,  with  the 
shadow  of  the  leaves  playing  on  his  white  face. 

Poor  gay  dogs,  they  are  dead  !  The  page  of 
their  history  is  lost.  Perhaps  that  is  just  as  well. 
It  must  have  been  a  dark  page,  maybe  a  little  red 
too,  even  as  blood  runs  red.  You  can  see  the  scene 
of  their  revelries.  It  is  an  inn  now.  The  walls 
seem  to  echo  to  their  voices.  But  the  tables 
they    ate     at    are    like    themselves  —  worm-eaten. 


lect.  i]  THE   LITTLE   MANX   NATION  35 

Good-bye    to    them !      They    have    gone    over   the 
Styx. 


Smuggling  and  Wrecking 


Meanwhile,  what  of  the  Manx  people  ?  Their 
condition  was  pitiful.  An  author  who  wrote  fifty 
years  after  the  advent  of  the  Athols  gives  a  descrip- 
tion of  such  misery  that  one's  flesh  creeps  as  one 
reads  it.  Badly  housed,  badly  clad,  badly  fed>  and 
hardly  taught  at  all,  the  very  poor  were  in  a  state 
of  abjectness  unfit  for  dogs.  Treat  men  as  dogs 
and  they  speedily  acquire  the  habits  of  dogs,  the 
vices  of  dogs,  and  none  of  their  virtues.  That  was 
what  happened  to  a  part  of  the  Manx  people  ;  they 
developed  the  instincts  of  dogs,  while  their  masters, 
the  other  dogs,  the  gay  dogs,  were  playing  their 
bad  game  together.  Smuggling  became  common  on 
the  coasts  of  Man.  Spirits  and  tobacco  were  the 
goods  chiefly  smuggled,  and  the  illicit  trade  rose 
to  a  great  height.  There  was  no  way  to  check  it. 
The  island  was  an  independent  kingdom.  My  lord 
of  Athol  swept  in  the  ill-gotten  gains,  and  his 
people  got  what  they  could.  It  was  a  game  of -grab. 
Meantime   the  trade   of  the   surrounding  countries, 


36  THE   LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lect.  i 

England,  Wales,  and  Ireland,  was  suffering  griev- 
ously. The  name  of  the  island  must  have  smelt 
strong  in  those  days. 

But  there  was  a  fouler  odour  than  that  of 
smuggling.  Wrecking  was  not  unknown.  The 
island  lent  itself  naturally  to  that  evil  work.  The 
mists  of  Little  Mannanan,  son  of  Lear,  did  not  for- 
sake our  island  when  Saint  Patrick  swept  him  out 
of  it.  They  continued  to  come  up  from  the  south, 
and  to  conspire  with  the  rapid  currents  from  the 
north  to  drive  ships  on  to  our  rocks.  Our  coasts 
were  badly  lighted,  or  lighted  not  at  all.  An  open 
flare  stuck  out  from  a  pole  at  the  end  of  a  pier  was 
often  all  that  a  dangerous  headland  had  to  keep 
vessels  away  from  it.  Nothing  was  easier  than 
for  a  fishing  smack  to  run  down  pole  and  flare 
together,  as  if  by  accident,  on  returning  to  harbour. 
But  there  was  a  worse  danger  than  bad  lights,  and 
that  was  false  lights.  It  was  so  easy  to  set  them. 
Sometimes  they  were  there  of  themselves,  without 
evil  intention  of  any  human  soul,  luring  sailors  to 
their  destruction.  Then  when  ships  came  ashore 
it  was  so  easy  to  juggle  with  one's  conscience  and 
say  it  was  t  he  will  of  God,  and  no  bad  doings  of 
any  man's.      The   poor   seagoing  men   were  at  the 


lect.  i]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  37 

bottom  of  the  sea  by  this  time,  and  their  cargo  was 
drifting  up  with  the  tide,  so  there  was  nothing  to 
do  but  to  take  it.  Such  was  the  way  of  things. 
The  Manxman  could  find  his  excuses.  He  was 
miserably  poor,  he  had  bad  masters,  smuggling  was 
his  best  occupation,  his  coasts  were  indifferently 
lighted,  ships  came  ashore  of  themselves — what  was 
he  to  do  ?  That  the  name  of  Manxman  did  not 
become  a  curse,  an  execration,  and  a  reproach  in 
these  evil  days  of  the  Athols  seems  to  say  that 
behind  all  this  wicked  work  there  were  splendid 
virtues  doing  noble  duty  somewhere.  The  real  sap, 
the  true  human  heart  of  Manxland,  was  somehow 
kept  alive.  Besides  cut-throats  in  ruffles,  and 
wreckers  in  homespun,  there  were  true,  sweet, 
simple-hearted  people  who  would  not  sell  their  souls 
to  fill  their  mouths. 

Does  it  surprise  you  that  some  of  all  this  comes 
within  the  memory  of  men  still  living  ?  I  am 
myself  well  within  the  period  of  middle  life,  and, 
though  too  young  to  touch  these  evil  days,  I  can 
remember  men  and  women  who  must  have  been  in 
the  thick  of  them.  On  the  north  of  the  island  is 
Kirk  Maughold  Head,  a  bold,  rugged  headland 
going  far  out  into  the  sea.      Within  this  rocky  fore- 


38  THE  LITTLE  MANX   NATION  [lect.  i 

land  lie  two  bays,  sweet  coverlets  of  blue  waters, 
washing  a  shingly  shore  under  shelter  of  dark  cliffs. 
One  of  these  bays  is  called  Port-y-Vullin,  and  just 
outside  of  it,  between  the  mainland  and  the  head,  is 
a  rock,  known  as  the  Carrick,  a  treacherous  grey 
reef,  visible  at  low  water,  and  hidden  at  flood-tide. 
On  the  low  brews  of  Port-y-Vullin  stood  two 
houses,  the  one  a  mill,  worked  by  the  waters  coming 
down  from  the  near  mountain  of  Barrule,  the  other 
a  weaver's  cottage.  Three  weavers  lived  together 
there,  all  bachelors,  and  all  old,  and  never  a  woman 
or  child  among  them — Jemmy  of  eighty  years,  Danny 
of  seventy,  and  Billy  01  sixty  something.  Year  in, 
year  out,  they  worked  at  their  looms,  and  early  or 
late,  whenever  you  passed  on  the  road  behind,  you 
heard  the  click  of  them.  Fishermen  coming  back 
to  harbour  late  at  night  always  looked  for  the  light 
of  their  windows.  "  Yander's  Jemmy-Danny- 
Billy's,"  they  would  say,  and  steer  home  by  that 
landmark.  But  the  light  which  guided  the  native 
seamen  misled  the  stranger,  and  many  a  ship  in  the 
old  days  was  torn  to  pieces  on  the  jagged  teeth  of 
that  sea-lion,  the  Carrick.  Then,  hearing  loud 
human  cries  above  the  shrieks  of  wind  and  wave, 
the  three  helpless  old  men    would   come   tottering 


lect.  i]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  3g 

down  to  the  beach,  like  three  innocent  witches, 
trembling  and  wailing,  holding  each  other's  hands 
like  little  children,  and  never  once  dreaming  of 
what  bad  work  the  candles  over  their  looms  had 
done. 

But  there  were  those  who  were  not  so  guileless. 
Among  them  was  a  sad  old  salt,  whom  I  shall  call 
Hommy-Billy-mooar,  Tommy,  son  of  big  Billy. 
Did  I  know  him,  or  do  I  only  imagine  him  as  I 
have  heard  of  him  ?  I  cannot  say,  but  nevertheless 
I  see  him  plainly.  One  of  his  eyes  was  gone,  and 
the  other  was  badly  damaged.  His  face  was  of 
stained  mahogany,  one  side  of  his  mouth  turned  up, 
the  other  side  turned  down,  he  could  laugh  and  cry 
together.  He  was  half  landsman,  tilling  his  own 
croft,  half  seaman,  going  out  with  the  boats  to 
the  herrings.  In  his  youth  he  had  sailed  on  a 
smuggler,  running  in  from  Whitehaven  with  spirits. 
The  joy  of  "  the  trade,"  as  they  called  smuggling, 
was  that  a  man  could  buy  spirits  at  two  shillings  a 
gallon  for  sale  on  the  island",  and  drink  as  much  as 
he  "  plazed  abooard  for  nothin'."  When  Hommy 
married,  he  lived  in  a  house  near  the  church,  the 
venerable  St.  Maughold  away  on  the  headland,  with 
its    lonely    churchyard    within    sound    of    the  sea. 


4o  THE   LITTLE   MANX  NATION  [lect.  i 

There  on  tempestuous  nights  the  old  eagle  looked 
out  from  his  eyrie  on  the  doings  of  the  sea,  over 
the  back  of  the  cottage  of  the  old  weavers  to  the 
Carrick.  If  anything  came  ashore  he  awakened  his 
boys,  scurried  over  to  the  bay,  seized  all  they  could 
carry,  stole  back  home,  hid  his  treasures  in  the 
thatch  of  the  roof,  or  among  the  straw  of  the  loft, 
went  off  to  bed,  and  rose  in  the  morning  with  an 
innocent  look,  and  listened  to  the  story  of  last 
night's  doings  with  a  face  full  of  surprise.  They 
say  that  Hommy  carried  on  this  work  for  years, 
and  though  many  suspected,  none  detected  him,  not 
even  his  wife,  who  was  a  good  Methodist.  The 
poor  woman  found  him  out  at  last,  and,  being 
troubled  with  a  conscience,  she  died,  and  Hommy 
buried  her  in  Kirk  Maughold  churchyard,  and  put  a 
stone  over  her  with  a  good  inscription.  Then  he 
went  on  as  before.  But  one  morning  there  was  a 
mighty  hue  and  cry.  A  ship  had  been  wrecked  on 
the  Carrick,  and  the  crew  who  were  saved  had  seen 
some  rascals  carrying  'off  in  the  darkness  certain 
rolls  of  Irish  cloth  which  they  had  thrown  over- 
board. Suspicion  lit  on  Hommy  and  his  boys. 
Hommy  was  quite  hurt.  "  Wrecking  was  it  ? 
Lord  a-massy  !      To  think,   to  think  !  "      Revenue 


lect.i]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  41 

officers  were  to  come  to-morrow  to  search  his  house. 
Those  rolls  of  Irish  cloth  were  under  the  thatch, 
above  the  dry  gorse  stored  up  on  the  "  lath  "  in 
his  cowhouse.  That  night  he  carried  them  off  to 
the  churchyard,  took  up  the  stone  from  over  his 
wife's  grave,  dug  the  grave  open  and  put  in  the 
cloth.  Next  day  his  one  eye  wept  a  good  deal 
while  the  officers  of  revenue  made  their  fruitless 
search.  "  Aw  well,  well,  did  they  think  because  a 
man  was  poor  he  had  no  feelings  ?  "  Afterwards 
he  pretended  to  become  a  Methodist,  and  then  he 
removed  the  cloth  from  his  wife's  grave  because  he 
had  doubts  about  how  she  could  rise  in  the 
resurrection  with  such  a  weight  on  her  coffin. 
Poor  old  Hommy,  he  came  to  a  bad  end.  He 
spent  his  last  days  in  jail  in  Castle  Rushen.  A 
one-eyed  mate  of  his  told  me  he  saw  him  there. 
Hommy  was  unhappy.  He  said  "  Castle  Rushen 
wasn't  no  place  for  a  poor  man  when  he  was  gettin' 
anyways  ould." 

The  Revestment 

It   is  hardly  a  matter  for  much  surprise  that  the 
British  Government  did   what   it  could   to   curb  the 


42  THE  LITTLE   MANX   NATION  [lect.  i 

smuggling  that  was  rife  in  Man  in  tho  days  of  the 
Athols.  The  had  work  had  begun  in  the  days 
of  the  Uerbys,  when  an  Act  was  passed  which 
authorised  the  Earl  of  Derby  to  dispose  of  his 
royalty  and  revenue  in  the  island,  and  empowered 
the  Lords  of  the  Treasury  to  treat  with  him  for  the 
sale  of  it.  The  Earl  would  not  sell,  and  when  the 
Duke  of  Athol  was  asked  to  do  so,  he  tried  to  put 
matters  off.  But  the  evil  had  by  this  time  grown 
so  grievously  that  the  British  Government  threatened 
to  strip  the  Duke  without  remuneration.  Then  he 
agreed  to  accept  ^70,000  as  compensation  for  the 
absolute  surrender  of  the  island.  lie  was  also  to 
have  ,£2000  out  of  the  Irish  revenue,  which,  as  well 
as  the  English  revenue,  was  to  benefit  by  the 
suppression  of  the  clandestine  trade.  This  was  in 
exchange  for  some  .£6000  a  year  which  was  the 
Duke's  Manx  revenue,  much  of  it  from  duties  and 
customs  paid  in  goods  which  were  afterwards 
smuggled  into  England,  Ireland,  and  Scotland.  So 
much  for  his  Grace  of  Athol.  Of  course  the  Manx 
people  got  nothing.  The  thief  was  punished,  the 
receiver  was  enriched  ;   it  is  the  way  of  the  world. 

In  our  history  of  Man,  we  call  this  sweet   trans- 
action, which  occurred  in  1765,  "The  Revestment," 


lect.  r]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  43 

# 

meaning  the  revesting  of  the  island  in  the  crown  ol 
England.  Our  Manx  people  did  not  like  it  at  all. 
I  have  heard  a  rugged  old  song  on  the  subject  sung 
at  Manx  inns  : 

For  the  babes  unborn  shall  rue  the  day 
When  the  Isle  of  Man  was  sold  away  ; 
And  there's  ne'er  an  old  wife  that  loves  a  dram 
But  she  will  lament  for  the  Isle  of  Man. 

Clearly  drams  became  scarce  when  "  the  trade " 
was  put  down.  But,  indeed,  the  Manx  had  the 
most  strange  fears  and  ludicrous  sorrows.  The 
one  came  of  their  anxiety  about  the  fate  of  their 
ancient  Constitution,  the  other  came  of  their  foolish 
generosity.  They  dreaded  that  the  government  of 
the  island  would  be  merged  into  that  of  England, 
and  they  imagined  that  because  the  Duke  of  Athol 
had  been  compelled  to  surrender,  he  had  been 
badly  treated.  Their  patriotism  was  satisfied  when 
the  Duke  of  Athol  was  made  Governor-in-Chief 
under  the  English  crown,  for  then  it  was  clear  that 
they  were  to  be  left  alone  ;  but  their  sympathy  was 
moved  to  see  him  come  back  as  servant  who  had 
once  been  lord.  They  had  disliked  the  Duke  of 
Athol  down  to  that  hour,  but  they  forgot  their 
hatred   in   sight   of  his    humiliation,   and  when    he 


44  Til  P.    LITTLE   MANX  NATION  [lect.  i 

landed  in  his  now  character,  they  received  him  with 
acclamations.      I    am    touched    by    the    thought    of 

my  countrymen's  unselfish  conduct  in  that  hour  ; 
but  I  thank  God  I  was  not  alive  to  witness  it. 
I  should  have  shrieked  with  laughter.  The  ab- 
surdity of  the  situation  passes  the  limits  even  of  a 
farce.  A  certain  Duke,  who  had  received  ^6000 
a  year,  whereof  a  large  part  came  of  an  immoral 
trade,  had  been  to  London  and  sold  his  interest  in 
it  for  ,£70,000,  because  if  he  had  not  taken  that,  he 
would  probably  have  got  nothing.  With  thirteen 
years'  purchase  of  his  insecure  revenue  in  his 
pocket,  and  £"2000  a  year  promised,  and  his 
salary  as  Governor-in-Chief  besides,  he  returns  to 
the  island  where  half  the  people  arc  impoverished 
by  his  sale  of  the  island,  and  nobody  else  has 
received  a  copper  coin,  and  everybody  is  doomed  to 
pay  back  interest  on  what  the  Duke  has  received  ! 
What  is  the  picture  ?  The  Duke  lands  at  the  old 
jetty,  and  there  his  carriage  is  waiting  to  take 
him  to  the  house,  where  he  and  his  have  kept 
swashbuckler  courts,  with  troops  of  fine  gentlemen 
debtors  from  London.  The  Manxmen  forget  every- 
thing except  that  his  dignity  is  reduced.  They 
unyoke   his  horses,   get   into   his  shafts,   drag    him 


lect.  i]  THE  LITTLE   MANX  NATION  45 

through  the  streets,  toss  up  their  caps  and  cry 
hurrah !  hurrah  !  One  seems  to  see  the  Duke 
sitting  there  with  his  arms  folded,  and  his  head  on 
his  breast.  He  can't  help  laughing.  The  thing- 
is  too  ridiculous.  Oh,  if  Swift  had  been  there 
to  see  it,  what  a  scorching  satire  we  should  have 
had  ! 

But  the  Athols  soon  spirited  away  their  popu- 
larity. First  they  clamoured  for  a  further  sum  on 
account  of  the  lost  revenues,  and  they  got  it.  Then 
they  tried  to  appropriate  part  of  the  income  of  the 
clergy.  Again,  they  put  members  of  their  family 
into  the  bishopric,  and  one  of  them  sold  his  tithes 
to  a  factor  who  tried  to  extort  them  by  strong- 
measures,  which  led  to  green  crop  riots.  In  the 
end,  their  gross  selfishness,  which  thought  of  their 
own  losses  but  forgot  the  losses  of  the  people, 
raised  such  open  marks  of  aversion  in  the  island 
that  they  finally  signified  to  the  king  their  desire 
to  sell  all  their  remaining  rights,  their  land  and 
manorial  rights.  This  they  did  111  1829,  receiving 
altogether,  for  custom,  revenue,  tithes,  patronage 
of  the  bishopric,  and  quit  rents,  the  sum  of 
^416,000.  Such  was  the  value  to  the  last  of  the 
Athols  of  the  Manx  dynasty,  of  that   little  hungry 


46  THE   LITTLE   MANX   NATION  [lect.  i 

island  of  the  Irish  Sea,  which  Henry  IV.  gave  to 
the  Stanleys,  and  Sir  John  de  Stanley  did  not  think 
worth  while  to  look  at.  So  there  was  an  end  of 
the  House  of  Athol.  Exit  the  House  of  Athol ! 
The  play  goes  on  without  them. 

Home  Rule 

It  might  be  said  that  with  the  final  sale  of  1829 
the  history  of  the  Isle  of  Man  came  to  a  close. 
Since  then  we  have  been  in  the  happy  condition  of 
the  nation  without  a  history.  Man  is  now  a  de- 
pendency of  the  English  crown.  The  crown  is 
represented  by  a  Lieutenant-Governor.  Our  old 
Norse  Constitution  remains.  We  have  Home  Rule, 
and  it  works  well.  The  Manx  people  are  attached 
to  the  throne  of  England,  and  her  Majesty  has  not 
more  loyal  subjects  in  her  dominions.  We  arc 
deeply  interested  in  Imperial  affairs,  but  we  have  no 
voice  in  them.  I  do  not  think  we  have  ever  dreamt 
of  a  day  when  we  should  send  representatives  to 
Westminster.  Our  sympathies  as  a  nation  are  not 
altogether,  I  think,  with  the  party  of  progress.  We 
arc  devoted  to  old  institutions,  and  hold  fast  to  such 
of  them  as  are  our  own.      All  this  is,  perhaps,  what 


i.ect.  i]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  47 

you  would  expect  of  a   race   of  islanders  with   our 
antecedents. 

Our  social  history  has  not  been  brilliant.  I  do 
not  gather  that  the  Isle  of  Man  was  ever  Merry 
Man.  Not  even  in  its  gayest  days  do  we  catch  any 
note  of  merriment  amid  the  rumpus  of  its  revelries. 
It  is  an  odd  thing  that  woman  plays  next  to  no  part 
whatever  in  the  history  of  the  island.  Surely  ours 
is  the  only  national  pie  in  which  woman  has  not 
had  a  finger.  In  this  respect  the  island  justifies 
the  ungallant  reading  of  its  name — it  is  distinctly 
the  Isle  of  Man.  Not  even  amid  the  glitter  and 
gewgaws  of  our  Captain  Macheaths  do  you  catch 
the  glint  of  the  gown  of  a  Polly.  No  bevy  of  ladies, 
no  merry  parties,  no  pageants  worthy  of  the  name. 
No,  our  social  history  gives  no  idea  of  Merry 
Man. 

Our  civil  history  is  not  glorious.  We  are  com- 
pelled to  allow  that  it  has  no  heroism  in  it.  There 
has  been  no  fight  for  principle,  no  brave  endurance 
of  wrong.  Since  the  days  of  Orry,  we  have  had 
nothing  to  tell  in  Saga,  if  the  Sagaman  were  here! 
We  have  played  no  part  in  the  work  of  the  world. 
The  great  world  has  been  going  on  for  ten  centuries 
without  taking  much  note  of  us.      We   are  a  little 


4S  THE  LITTLE   MANX   NATION  [lect.  t 

nation,  lmt  even  little  nations  have  held   their  own. 
We  have  not. 

One  great  king  we  have  had,  King  Orry.  1  te 
gave  us  our  patriarchal  Constitution,  and  it  is  a  fine 
thing.  It  combines  most  of  the  best  qualities  of 
representative  government.  Its  freedom  is  more 
free  than  that  of  some  republics.  The  people  seem 
to  be  more  seen,  and  their  voice  more  heard,  than  in 
any  other  form  of  government  whose  operation  I 
have  witnessed.  Yet  there  is  nothing  noisy  about 
our  Home  Rule.  And  this  Constitution  we  have 
kept  alive  for  a  thousand  years,  while  it  has  died 
out  of  every  other  Norse  kingdom.  That  is,  per- 
haps, our  highest  national  honour.  We  may  have 
played  a  timid  part  ;  we  may  have  accepted  rulers 
from  anywhere  ;  we  may  never  have  made  a 
struggle  for  independence  ;  and  no  Manxman  may 
ever  have  been  strong  enough  to  stand  up  alone  for 
his  people.  It  is  like  our  character  that  we  have 
taken  things  easily,  and  instead  of  resisting  our 
enemies,  or  throwing  them  from  our  rocky  island 
into  the  sea,  we  have  been  law  abiding  under  law- 
less masters  and  peaceful  under  oppression.  But 
this  one  thing  we  have  done  :  we  have  clung  to  our 
patriarchal  Constitution,  not   caring  a  ha'p'orth  who 


lect.  i]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  49 

administered  our  laws  so  long  as  the  laws  were  our 
own.  That  is  something  ;  I  think  it  is  a  good  deal. 
It  means  that  through  many  changes  undergone 
by  the  greater  peoples  of  the  world,  we  are  King 
Orry's  men  still.  Let  me  in  a  last  word  tell  you  a 
story  which  shows  what  that  description  implies. 

Orry's  Sons 

On  the  west  coast  of  the  Isle  of  Man  stands  the 
town  of  Peel.  It  is  a  little  fishing  port,  looking 
out  on  the  Irish  Sea.  To  the  north  of  it  there  is  a 
broad  shore,  to  the  south  lies  the  harbour  with  a 
rocky  headland  called  Contrary  Head  ;  in  front — 
until  lately  divided  from  the  mainland  by  a  narrow 
strait — is  a  rugged  island  rock.  On  this  rock  stand 
the  broken  ruins  of  a  castle,  Peel  Castle,  and  never 
did  castle  stand  on  a  grander  spot.  The  sea  flows 
round  it,  beating  on  the  jagged  cliffs  beneath,  and 
behind  it  are  the  wilder  cliffs  of  Contrary.  In  the 
water  between  and  around  Contrary  contrary  cur- 
rents flow,  and  when  the  wind  is  high  they  race 
and  prance  there  like  an  unbroken  horse.  It  is  a 
grand  scene,  but  a  perilous  place  for  ships. 

One  afternoon   in   October  of   1889  a  Norwegian 

T 


50  THE  LITTLE   MANX   NATION  [lect.  i 

ship  (strange  chance ! ),  the  St.  George  (name 
surely  chosen  by  the  Fates  ! ),  in  a  fearful  tempest 
was  drifting  on  to  Contrary  Head.  She  was 
labouring  hard  in  the  heavy  sea,  rearing,  plunging, 
creaking,  groaning, and  driving  fast  through  clamour- 
ing winds  and  threshing  breakers  on  to  the  cruel, 
black,  steep  horns  of  rock.  All  Peel  was  down  at 
the  beach  watching  her.  Flakes  of  sea-foam  were 
flying  around,  and  the  waves  breaking  on  the 
beach  were  scooping  up  the  shingle  and  flinging  it 
through  the  air  like  sleet. 

Peel  has  a  lifeboat,  and  it  was  got  out.  There 
were  so  many  volunteers  that  the  harbour-master 
had  difficulties  of  selection.  The  boat  got  off;  the 
coxswain  was  called  Charlie  Cain  ;  one  of  his  crew 
was  named  Gorry,  otherwise  Orry.  It  was  a 
perilous  adventure.  The  Norwegian  had  lost  her 
masts,  and  her  spars  were  floating  around  her  in  the 
snow-like  surf.  She  was  dangerous  to  approach, 
but  the  lifeboat  reached  her.  Charlie  cried  out  to 
the  Norwegian  captain  :  "  How  many  of  you  ?  " 
The  answer  came  back,  "  Twenty-two  !  "  Charlie 
counted  them  as  they  hung  on  at  the  ship's  side, 
and  said  :  "  I  only  see  twenty-one  ;  not  a  man  shall 
leave   the   ship    until    you    bring   the   odd    one    on 


lect.  i]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  51 

deck."  The  odd  one,  a  disabled  man,  had  been 
left  below  to  his  fate.  Now  he  was  brought  up, 
and  all  were  taken  aboard  the  lifeboat. 

On  landing  at  Peel  there  was  great  excitement, 
men  cheering  and  women  crying.  The  Manx 
women  spotted  a  baby  among  the  Norwegians, 
fought  for  it,  one  woman  got  it,  and  carried  it  off  to 
a  fire  and  dry  clothing.  It  was  the  captain's  wife's 
baby,  and  an  hour  afterwards  the  poor  captain's  wife, 
like  a  creature  distracted,  was  searching  for  it  all 
over  the  town.  And  to  heighten  the  scene,  report 
says  that  at  that  tremendous  moment  a  splendid 
rainbow  spanned  the  bay  from  side  to  side.  That 
ought  to  be  true  if  it  is  not. 

It  was  a  brilliant  rescue,  but  the  moving  part  of 
the  story  is  yet  to  tell.  The  Norwegian  Govern- 
ment, touched  by  the  splendid  heroism  of  the 
Manxmen,  struck  medals  for  the  lifeboat  men  and 
sent  them  across  to  the  Governor.  These  medals 
were  distributed  last  summer  on  the  island  rock 
within  the  ruins  of  old  Peel  Castle.  Think  of  it  ! 
One  thousand  years  before,  not  far  from  that  same 
place,  Orry  the  Viking  came  ashore  from  Denmark 
or  Norway.  And  now  his  Manx  sons,  still  bearing 
his  very  name,  Orry,  save  from  the  sea  the  sons   of 


52  THE   LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lect.  i 

the  brethren  he  left  behind,  and  down  the  milky  way, 
whence  Orry  himself  once  came,  come  now  to  the 
Manxmen  the  thanks  and  the  blessings  of  their 
kinsmen,  Orry's  father's  children. 

Such  a  story  as  this  thrills  one  to  the  heart.  It 
links  Manxmen  to  the  great  past.  What  are  a 
thousand  years  before  it  ?  Time  sinks  away,  and 
the  old  sea-warrior  seems  to  speak  to  us  still 
through- the  surf  of  that  storm  at   Peel. 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  MANX  BISHOPS 

Some  years  ago,  in  going  down  the  valley  of 
Foxdale,  towards  the  mouth  of  Glen  Rushen,  I  lost 
my  way  on  a  rough  and  unbeaten  path  under  the 
mountain  called  Slieu  Whallin.  There  I  was  met 
by  a  typical  old  Manx  farmer,  who  climbed  the 
hillside  some  distance  to  serve  as  my  guide.  "  Aw, 
man,"  said  he,  "  many  a  Sunday  I've  crossed  these 
mountains  in  snow  and  hail  together."  I  asked 
why  on  Sunday.  "  You  see,"  said  the  old  fellow, 
"  I'm  one  of  those  men  that  have  been  guilty  of 
what  St.  Paul  calls  the  foolishness  of  preaching." 
It  turned  out  that  he  was  a  local  preacher  to  the 
Wesleyans,  and  that  for  two  score  years  or  more,  in 
all  seasons,  in  all  weathers,  every  Sunday,  year  in, 
year  out,  he  had  made  the  journey  from  his  farm  in 
Foxdale   to  the    western   villages    of  Kirk    Patrick, 


54  THE   LITTLE   MANX   NATION  [lect.  ii 

where  his  voluntary  duty  lay.  He  left  me  with  a 
laugh  and  a  cheery  word.  "  Ask  again  at  the  cottage 
at  the  top  of  the  brew,"  he  shouted.  "  An  ould 
widda  lives  there  with  her  gel."  At  the  summit  of 
the  hill,  just  under  South  Barrule,  with  Cronk-ny- 
arrey-Lhaa  to  the  west,  I  came  upon  a  disused  lead 
mine,  called  the  old  Cross  Vein,  its  shaft  open  save 
for  a  plank  or  two  thrown  across  it,  and  filled  with 
water  almost  to  the  surface  of  the  ground.  And 
there,  under  the  lee  of  the  roofless  walls  of  the 
ruined  engine-house,  stood  the  tiny  one-story 
cottage  where  I  had  been  directed  to  inquire  my 
way  again.  I  knocked,  and  then  saw  the  outer 
conditions  of  an  existence  about  as  miserable  as  the 
mind  of  man  can  conceive.  The  door  was  opened 
by  a  youngish  woman,  having  a  thin,  white  face, 
and  within  the  little  house  an  elderly  woman  was 
breaking  scraps  of  vegetables  into  a  pot  that  swung 
from  a  hook  above  a  handful  of  turf  fire,  which 
burned  on  the  ground.  They  were  the  widow  and 
daughter.  Their  house  consisted  of  two  rooms,  a 
living  room  and  a  sleeping  closet,  both  open  to  the 
thatch,  which  was  sooty  with  smoke.  The  floor 
was  of  bare  earth,  trodden  hard  and  shiny.  There 
was  one  little  window  in   each   apartment,  but   after 


lect.  11]  THE   LITTLE   MANX    NATION  55 

the  breakages  of  years,  the  panes  were  obscured 
by  rags  stuffed  into  the  gaps  to  keep  out  the 
weather.  The  roof  bore  traces  of  damp,  and  I 
asked  if  the  rain  came  into  the  house.  "  Och,  yes, 
and  bad,  bad,  bad  !  "  said  the  elder  woman.  "  He 
left  us,  sir,  years  ago."  That  was  her  way  of 
saying  that  her  husband  was  dead,  and  that  since 
his  death  there  had  been  no  man  to  do  an  odd 
job  about  the  place.  The  two  women  lived  by 
working  in  the  fields,  at  weeding,  at  planting 
potatoes,  at  thinning  cabbages,  and  at  the  hay  in 
its  season.  Their  little  bankrupt  barn  belonged  to 
them,  and  it  was  all  they  had.  In  that  they  lived, 
or  lingered,  on  the  mountain  top,  a  long  stretch  of 
bare  hillside,  away  from  any  neighbour,  alone  in 
their  poverty,  with  mountains  before  and  behind, 
the  broad  grey  sea,  without  ship  or  sail,  down  a 
gully  to  the  west,  nothing  visible  to  the  east  save 
the  smoke  from  the  valley  where  lay  the  habitations 
of  men,  nothing  audible  anywhere  but  the  deep 
rumble  of  the  waves'  bellow,  or  the  chirp  of  the 
birds  overhead,  or,  perhaps,  when  the  wind  was 
southerky,  the  church  bells  on  Sunday  morning. 
Never  have  I  looked  upon  such  lonely  penury, 
and    yet    there,   even    there,    these    forlorn    women 


56  THE   LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [i.ect.  ii 

kept  their  souls  alive.  "  Yes,"  they  said,  "  we're 
working  when  we  can  get  the  work,  and  trusting, 
trusting,  trusting  still." 

I  have  lingered  too  long  over  this  poor  adventure 
of  losing  my  way  to  Glen  Rushen,  but  my  little 
sketch  may  perhaps  get  you  close  to  that  side  of 
Manx  life  whereon  I  wish  to  speak  to-day.  I 
want  to  tell  the  history  of  religion  in  Man,  so  far 
as  we  know  it  ;  and  better,  to  my  thinking,  than  a 
grave  or  solid  disquisition  on  the  ways  and  doings 
of  Bishops  or  Spiritual  Barons,  are  any  peeps  into 
the  hearts  and  home  lives  of  the  Manx,  which  will 
show  what  is  called  the  "  innate  religiosity  "  of  the 
humblest  of  the  people.  To  this  end  also,  when  I 
have  discharged  my  scant  duty  to  church  history, 
or  perhaps  in  the  course  of  my  hasty  exposition  of 
it,  I  shall  dwell  on  some  of  those  homely  manners 
and  customs,  which,  more  than  prayer-books  and 
printed  services,  tell  us  what  our  fathers  believed > 
what  we  still  believe,  and  how  we  stand  towards 
that  other  life,  that  inner  life,  that  is  not  concerned 
with  what  we  eat  and  what  we  drink,  and  where- 
withal we  shall  be  clothed. 


lect.  n]  THE   LITTLE  MANX  NATION  57 

The  Druids 

And  now,  just  as  the  first  chapter  ot  our  Manx 
civil  history  is  lost,  so  the  first  chapter  of  our 
church  history  is  lost.  That  the  Druids  occupied 
the  island  seems  to  some  people  to  be  clear  from 
many  Celtic  names  and  some  remains,  such  as  we 
are  accustomed  to  call  Druidical,  and  certain  cus- 
toms still  observed.  Perhaps  worthy  of  a  word  is 
the  circumstance  that  in  the  parish  where  the  Bishop 
now  lives,  and  has  always  lived,  Kirk  Michael,  there 
is  a  place  called  by  a  name  which  in  the  Manx 
signifies  Chief  Druid.  Strangely  are  the  faiths  01 
the  ages  linked  together. 

Conversion  to  Christianity 

We  do  not  know,  with  any  certainty,  at  what 
time  the  island  was  converted  to  Christianity.  The 
accepted  opinion  is  that  Christianity  was  established 
in  Man  by  St.  Patrick  about  the  middle  of  the  fifth 
century.  The  story  goes  that  the  Saint  of  Ireland 
was  on  a  voyage  thither  from  England,  when  a 
storm  cast  him  ashore  on  a  little  islet  on  the  western 


58  THE  LITTLE  MANX   NATION  [lect.  ii 

coast  of  Man.  This  islet  was  afterwards  called 
St.  Patrick's  Isle.  St.  Patrick  built  his  church  on 
it.  The  church  was  rebuilt  eight  centuries  later 
within  the  walls  of  a  castle  which  rose  on  the  same 
rocky  site.  It  became  the  cathedral  church  of  the 
island.  When  the  Norwegians  came  they  renamed 
the  islet  Holm  Isle.  Tradition  says  that  St. 
Patrick's  coming  was  in  the  time  of  Mannanan,  the 
magician,  our  little  Manx  Prospero.  It  also  says 
that  St.  Patrick  drove  Mannanan  away,  and  that 
St.  Patrick's  successor,  St.  Germain,  followed  up 
the  good  work  of  exterminating  evil  spirits  by  driving 
out  of  the  island  all  venomous  creatures  whatever. 
We  sometimes  bless  the  memory  of  St.  Germain, 
and  wish  he  would  come  again. 

The  Early  Bishops  of  Man 

After  St.  Germain  came  St.  Maughold.  This 
Bishop  was  a  sort  of  transfigured  Manx  Caliban.  I 
trust  the  name  does  him  no  wrong.  He  had  been 
an  Irish  prince,  had  lived  a  bad,  gross  life  as  a 
robber  at  the  head  of  a  band  of  robbers,  had  been 
converted  by  St.  Patrick,  and,  resolving  to  abandon 
the  temptations  of  the  world,  had   embarked  on  the 


lect.  n]  THE   LITTLE   MANX   NATION  59 

sea  in  a  wicker  boat  without  oar  or  helm.      Almost 
he  had  his  will   at   once,  but   the  north  wind,  which 
threatened  to  remove  him  from  the  temptations   of 
this  world,  cast  him  ashore  on  the  north  of  the  Isle 
of  Man.      There  he  built  his  church,  and  the  rocky 
headland  whereon    it    stands    is   still   known  by  his 
name.      High     on    the     craggy    cliff-side,     looking 
towards    the    sea,  is    a    seat  hewn  out  of  the  rock. 
This     is    called    St.    Maughold's    Chair.      Not    far 
away  there   is  a  well  supposed   to  possess  miracu- 
lous properties.      It   is  called  St.  Maughold's   Well. 
Thus   tradition   has  perpetuated    the  odour  of    his 
great  sanctity,  which   is  the  more  extraordinary  in 
a  variation  of  his  legend,  which  says  that  it  was  not 
after  his  conversion,  and   in  submission   to  the  will 
of  God,  that  he  put  forth  from  Ireland  in  his  wicker 
boat,  but   that   he  was  thrust  out  thus,  with  hands 
and  feet  bound,  by  way  of  punishment  for  his  crimes 
as  a  captain  of  banditti. 

But  if  Maughold  was  Caliban  in  Ireland,  he 
was  more  than  Prospero  in  Man.  Rumour  of  his 
piety  went  back  to  Ireland,  and  St.  Bridget,  who 
had  founded  a  nunnery  at  Kildare,  resolved  on  a 
pilgrimage  to  the  good  man's  island.  She  crossed 
the    water,    attended    by    her   virgins,    called     her 


60  THE   LITTLE  MANX   NATION  [lect.  11 

daughters  of  fire,  founded  a  nunnery  near  Douglas, 
worked  miracles  there,  touched  the  altar  in  testi- 
mony of  her  virginity,  whereupon  it  grew  green 
and  flourished.  This,  if  I  may  be  pardoned  the 
continued  parallel,  is  our  Manx  Miranda.  And  in- 
deed it  is  difficult  to  shake  off  the  idea  that  Shake- 
speare must  have  known  something  of  the  earl)'' 
story  of  Man,  its  magicians  and  its  saints.  We 
know  the  perfidy  of  circumstance,  the  lying  tricks 
that  fact  is  always  playing  with  us,  too  well  and 
painfully  to  say  anything  of  the  kind  with  certainty. 
But  the  angles  of  resemblance  are  many  between 
the  groundwork  of  the  "  Tempest  "  and  the  earliest 
of  Manx  records.  Mannanan-beg-Mac-y-Lear,  the 
magician  who  surrounded  the  island  with  mists 
when  enemies  came  near  in  ships  ;  Maughold,  the 
robber  and  libertine,  bound  hand  and  foot,  and 
driven  ashore  in  a  wicker  boat  ;  and  then  Bridget, 
the  virgin  saint.  Moreover,  the  stories  of  Little  Man- 
nanan,  of  St.  Patrick,  and  of  St.  Maughold  were 
printed  in  Manx  in  the  sixteenth  century.  Truly 
that  is  not  enough,  for,  after  all,  we  have  no  evidence 
that  Shakespeare,  who  knew  everything,  knew 
Manx.  But  then  Man  has  long  been  famous  for  its 
seamen.      We  had   one   of  them  at  Trafalgar,  hold- 


lect.  n]  THE   LITTLE   MANX   NATION  61 

ing  Nelson  in  his  arms  when  he  died.  The  best 
days,  or  the  worst  days — which? — of  the  trade  of 
the  West  Coast  of  Africa  saw  Manx  captains  in  the 
thick  of  it.  Shall  I  confess  to  you  that  in  the  bad 
days  of  the  English  slave  trade  the  four  merchant- 
men that  brought  the  largest  black  cargo  to  the  big- 
human  auction  mart  at  the  Goree  Piazza  at  Liver- 
pool were  commanded  by  four  Manxmen !  They 
were  a  sad  quartet.  One  of  them  had  only  one  arm 
and  an  iron  hook  ;  another  had  only  one  arm  and 
one  eye  ;  a  third  had  only  one  leg  and  a  stump  ;  the 
fourth  was  covered  with  scars  from  the  iron  of  the 
chains  of  a  slave  which  he  had  worn  twelve  months 
at  Barbadoes.  Just  about  enough  humanity  in  the 
four  to  make  one  complete  man.  But  with  vigour 
enough,  fire  enough,  heart  enough — I  daren't  say 
soul  enough — in  their  dismembered  old  trunks  to 
make  ten  men  apiece  ;  born  sea-rovers,  true  sons  of 
Orry,  their  blood  half  brine.  WeJl,  is  it  not  con- 
ceivable that  in  those  earlier  days  of  treasure  seek- 
ing, when  Elizabeth's  English  captains  were  spoiling 
the  Spaniard  in  the  Indies,  Manx  sailors  were  also 
there  ?  If  so,  why  might  not  Shakespeare,  who 
must  have  ferreted  out  many  a  stranger  creature, 
have  found   in   some   London  tavern  an  old    Manx 


62  THE  LITTLE   MANX  NATION  [lect.  ii 

sea-dog,  who  could  tell  him  of  the  Manx    Prospero, 
the  Manx  Caliban,  and  the  Manx  Miranda? 

But  I  have  rambled  on  about  my  sailors  ;  I  must 
return  to  my  Bishops.  They  seem  to  have  been  a 
line  of  pious,  humble,  charitable,  godly  men  at  the 
beginning.  Irishmen,  chiefly,  living  the  lives  of 
hermits  and  saints.  Apparently  they  were  at  first 
appointed  by  the  people  themselves.  Would  it  be 
interesting  to  know  the  grounds  of  selection  ?  One 
was  selected  for  his  sanctity,  a  natural  qualification, 
but  another  was  chosen  because  he  had  a  pleasant 
face,  and  a  fine  portly  figure  ;  not  bad  qualifications, 
either.  Thus  things  went  on  for  about  a  hundred 
years,  and,  for  all  we  know,  Celtic  Bishops  and 
Celtic  people  lived  together  in  their  little  island  in 
peace,  hearing  nothing  of  the  loud  religious  hubbub 
that  was  disturbing  Europe. 

Bishops  of  the  Welsh  Dynasty 

Then  came  the  rule  of  the  Welsh  kings,  and, 
though  we  know  but  little  with  certainty,  we  seem  to 
realise  that  it  brought  great  changes  to  the  religious 
life  of  Man.  The  Church  began  to  possess  itself  of 
lands  ;  the  baronial  territories  of  the  island  fell  into 


lect.  n]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  63 

the  hands  of  the  clergy  ;  the  early  Bishops  became 
Barons.  This  gave  the  Church  certain  powers  of 
government.  The  Bishops  became  judges,  and  as 
judges  they  possessed  great  power  over  the  person 
of  the  subject.  Sometimes  they  stood  in  the 
highest  place  of  all,  being  also  Governor  to  the 
Welsh  Kings.  Then  they  were  called  Sword- 
Bishops.  Their  power  at  such  times,  when  the 
crosier  and  sword  were  in  the  two  hands  of  one 
man,  must  have  been  portentous,  and  even  terrible. 
We  have  no  records  that  picture  what  came  of  that. 
But  it  is  not  difficult  to  imagine  the  condition. 
The  old  order  of  things  had  passed  away.  The 
hermit-saints,  the  saintly  hermits,  had  gone,  and  in 
their  place  were  monkish  barons,  living  in  abbeys 
and  monasteries,  whipping  the  poor  bodies  of  their 
people,  as  well  as  comforting  their  torn  hearts, 
fattening  on  broad  lands,  praying  each  with  his 
lips  :  "  Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread,"  but 
saying  each  to  his  soul :  "  Soul,  thou  hast  much 
goods  laid  up  for  many  years  ;  take  thine  ease  : 
eat,  drink,  and  be  merry." 


64  THE  LITTLE   MANX  NATION  [lect.  ii 


Bishops  of  the   Norse   Dynasty 

Little  as  we  know  of  these  times,  we  see  that 
things  must  have  come  to  a  pretty  pass,  for  when 
the  Scandinavian  dynasty  came  in  the  ecclesiastical 
authorities  were  forbidden  to  exercise  civil  control 
over  any  subjects  of  the  king  that  were  not  also  the 
tenants  of  their  own  baronies.  So  the  Bishops 
were  required  to  confine  themselves  to  keeping 
their  own  house  in  order.  The  Norse  Constitution 
established  in  Man  by  King  Orry  made  no  effort  to 
overthrow  the  Celtic  Church  founded  by  St.  Patrick, 
and  corrupted  by  his  Welsh  successors,  but  it  cur- 
tailed its  liberties,  and  reduced  its  dignity.  It 
demanded  as  an  act  of  fealty  that  the  Bishop  or 
chief  Baron  should  hold  the  stirrup  of  the  King's 
saddle,  as  he  mounted  his  horse  at  Tynwald.  But 
it  still  suffered  the  Bishop  and  certain  of  his  clergy 
to  sit  in  the  highest  court  of  the  legislature.  The 
Church  ceased  to  be  purely  Celtic  ;  it  became  Celto- 
Scandinavian,  otherwise  Manx.  It  was  under  the 
Archbishop  of  Drontheim  for  its  Metropolitan,  and 
its  young  clergy  were  sent  over  to  Drontheim  to  be 
educated.      Its  revenues  were  apportioned   after  the 


lect.  n]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  65 

most  apostolic  manner  ;  one-third  of  the  tithes  to 
the  Bishop  for  his  maintenance,  the  support  of  his 
courts,  his  churches,  and  (miserable  conclusion  !  ) 
his  prisons  ;  one-third  to  the  priests,  and  the 
remaining  third  to  the  relief  of  the  poor  and  the 
education  of  youth.  It  is  a  curious  and  significant 
fact  that  when  the  Reformation  came  the  last  third 
was  seized  by  the  lord.  Good  old  lordly  trick,  we 
know  it  well ! 

Sodor  and  Man 

The  Bishopric  of  the  island  was  now  no  longer 
called  the  Bishopric  of  Man,  but  Sodor  and  Man. 
The  title  has  given  rise  to  much  speculation. 
One  authority  derives  it  from  Sotercnssis,  a  name 
given  by  Danish  writers  to  the  western  islands, 
and  afterwards  corrupted  to  Sodcrcnsis.  Another 
authority  derives  it  from  Sudrcyjcis,  signifying 
in  the  Norwegian  the  Southern  Isles.  A  third 
derives  it  from  the  Greek  Soter,  Saviour,  to 
whose  name  the  cathedral  of  Iona  was  dedicated. 
And  yet  a  fourth  authority  derives  it  from  the 
supposed  third  name  of  the  little  islet  rock 
called     variously     Holm     Isle,    Sodor,    Peel,     and 

E 


66  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lect.  ii 

St.  Patrick's  Isle,  whereon  St.  Patrick  or  St. 
Germain  built  his  church.  I  can  claim  no  right  to 
an  opinion  where  these  good  doctors  differ,  and 
shall  content  myself  with  saying  that  the  balance 
of  belief  is  in  favour  of  the  Norwegian  derivation, 
which  offers  this  explanation  of  the  title  of  Bishop 
of  Sodor  and  Man,  that  the  Isle  of  Man  was  not 
included  by  the  Norsemen  in  the  southern  cluster 
of  islands  called  the  Sudereys,  and  that  the  Bishop 
was  sometimes  called  the  Bishop  of  Man  and  the 
Isles,  and  sometimes  Bishop  of  the  Sudereys  and 
the  Isle  of  Man.  Only  one  warning  note  shall  I 
dare,  as  an  ignorant  layman,  to  strike  on  that 
definition,  and  it  is  this  :  that  the  title  of  Bishop  of 
Sodor  dates  back  to  the  seventh  century  certainly, 
and  that  the  Norseman  did  not  come  south  until 
three  centuries  later. 


The  Early  Bishops  of  the  House 
of  Stanley 

But  now  I  come  to  matters  whereon  I  have  more 
authority  to  speak.  When  the  Isle  of  Man  passed 
to  the    Stanley  family,  the    Bishopric   fell   to  their 


lect.h]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  67 

patronage,  and  they  lost  no  time  in  putting  their 
own  people  into  it.  It  was  then  under  the  English 
metropolitan  of  Canterbury,  but  early  in  the  six- 
teenth century  it  became  part  of  the  province  of 
York.  About  that  time  the  baronies,  the  abbeys, 
and  the  nunneries  were  suppressed.  It  does 
not  appear  that '  the  change  of  metropolitan  had 
made  much  change  of  religious  life.  Apparently 
the  clergy  kept  the  Manx  people  in  miserable  ig- 
norance. It  was  not  until  the  seventeenth  century 
that  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer  was  translated 
into  the  Manx  language.  The  Gospels  and  the 
Acts  were  unknown  to  the  Manx  until  nearly  a 
century  later.  Nor  was  this  due  to  ignorance  of 
the  clergy  of  the  Manx  tongue,  for  most  of  them 
must  have  been  Manxmen,  and  several  of  the 
Bishops  were  Manxmen  also.  But  grievous  abuses 
had  by  this  time  attached  themselves  to  the  Manx 
Church,  and  some  of  them  were  flagrant  and  wicked, 
and  some  were  impudent  and  amusing. 

Tithes  in   Kind 

Naturally  the  more  outrageous  of  the  latter  sort 
gathered    about    the    process    of    collecting    tithes. 


68  THE   LITTLE  MANX   NATION  [lect.ii 

Tithes  were  paid  in  kind  in  those  days.  It  was 
not  until  well  within  our  own  century  that  they 
were  commuted  to  a  money  payment.  The  Manx- 
man paid  tithe  on  everything.  He  began  to  pay 
tithe  before  coming  into  the  world,  and  he  went  on 
paying  tithe  even  after  he  had  gone  out  of  it.  This 
is  a  hard  saying,  but  nevertheless  a  simple  truth. 
Throughout  his  journey  from  the  cradle  to  the 
grave,  the  Manxman  paid  tithe  on  all  he  inherited, 
on  all  he  had,  on  all  he  did,  on  all  his  wife  did,  and 
on  all  he  left  behind  him.  We  have  the  equivalent 
of  this  in  England  at  the  present  hour,  but  it  was 
yet  more  tyrannical,  and  infinitely  more  ludicrous,  in 
the  Isle  of  Man  down  to  the  year  1839.  It  is  only 
vanity  and  folly  and  vexation  of  spirit  to  quarrel 
with  the  modern  English  taxgatherer  ;  you  are  sure 
to  go  the  wall,  with  humiliation  and  with  disgrace. 
It  was  not  always  so  when  taxes  were  paid  in  kind. 
There  was,  at  least,  the  satisfaction  of  cheating. 
The  Manx  people  could  not  always  deny  themselves 
that  satisfaction.  For  instance,  they  were  required 
to  pay  tithe  of  herring  as  soon  as  the  herring  boats 
were  brought  above  full  sea  mark,  and  there  were 
ways  of  counting  known  to  the  fishermen  with 
which  the  black-coated  arithmeticians  of  the  Church 


lect.  n]  THE   LITTLE  MANX   NATION  69 

were  not  able  to  cope.  A  man  paid  tithe  on  such 
goods  and  even  such  clothes  as  his  wife  possessed 
on  their  wedding  day,  and  young  brides  became 
wondrous  wise  in  the  selection  for  the  vicarage  of 
the  garments  that  were  out  of  fashion.  A  corpse- 
present  was  demanded  over  the  grave  of  a  dead  man 
out  of  the  horses  and  cattle  whereof  he  died  possessed, 
and  dying  men  left  verbal  wills  which  consigned  their 
broken-winded  horses  and  dry  cows  to  the  mercy 
and  care  of  the  clergyman.  You  will  not  marvel 
much  that  such  dealings  led  to  disputes,  sometimes 
to  quarrels,  occasionally  to  riots.  In  my  boyhood 
I  heard  old  people  over  the  farm-house  fire  chuckle 
and  tell  of  various  wise  doings,  to  outwit  the  par- 
son. One  of  these  concerned  the  oats  harvest. 
When  the  oats  were  in  sheaf,  the  parson's  cart 
came  up,  driven  by  the  sumner,  the  parson's 
official  servant.  The  gate  of  the  field  was  thrown 
open,  and  honestly  and  religiously  one  sheaf  out  of 
every  ten  was  thrown  into  the  cart.  But  the  hus- 
bandman had  been  thrifty  in  advance.  The  par- 
son's sheaves  had  all  been  grouped  thick  about  the 
gate,  and  they  were  the  shortest,  and  the  thinnest, 
and  the  blackest,  and  the  dirtiest,  and  the  poorest 
that  the  field  had  yielded.     Similar  were  the  doings 


70  THE  LITTLE  MANX   NATION  [lect.  n 

at  the  digging  of  the  potatoes,  but  the  scenes  of 
recrimination  which  often  ensued  were  usually 
confined  to  the  farmer  and  the  sumner.  More 
outrageous  contentions  with  the  priest  himself  some- 
times occurred  within  the  very  walls  of  the  church. 
It  was  the  practice  to  bring  tithe  of  butter  and 
cheese  and  eggs,  and  lay  it  on  the  altar  on  Sunday. 
This  had  to  be  done  under  pain  of  exclusion  from 
the  communion,  and  that  was  a  penalty  most 
grievous  to  material  welfare.  So  the  Manxmen  and 
Manxwomen  were  compelled  to  go  to  church  much 
as  they  went  to  market,  with  their  butter-  and  egg- 
baskets  over  their  arms.  It  is  a  ludicrous  picture, 
as  one  sees  it  in  one's  mind's  eye,  but  what  comes 
after  reaches  the  extremity  of  farce.  Say  the 
scene  is  Maughold  old  church,  once  the  temple  of 
the  saintly  hermit.  It  is  Sunday  morning,  the 
bells  are  ringing,  and  Juan-beg-Marry-a-thruss; 
a  rascally  old  skinflint,  is  coming  along  with 
a  basket.  It  contains  some  butter  that  he  could 
not  sell  at  Ramsey  market  yesterday  because  it  was 
rank,  and  a  few  eggs  which  he  knows  to  be  stale 
and  addled — the  old  hen  has  sat  on  them,  and 
they  have  brought  forth  nothing.  These  he  places 
reverently   on   the    altar.      But   the    parson    knows 


lect.  n]  THE  LITTLE   MANX   NATION  71 

Juan,  and  proceeds  to  examine  his  tithe.  Ma}'  I 
take  so  much  liberty  with  history,  and  with  the 
desecrated  old  church,  as  to  imagine  the  scene  which 
follows  ? 

Priest,     pointing     contemptuously    towards     the 
altar  :   "  Juan-beg-Marry-a-thruss,  what  is  this  ?  " 
"  Butter  and  eggs,  so  plaze  your  reverence." 
"  Pig-swill  and  chalk  you  mean,  man  !  " 
"  Aw  'deed  if  I'd  known  your  reverence  was   so 
morthal  partic'lar  the  ould  hen  herself  should   have 
been  layin'  some  fresh  eggs  for  your  reverence." 

"  Take  them  away,  you  thief  of  the  Church  ! 
Do  you  think  what  isn't  fit  for  your  pig  is  good 
enough  for  your  priest  ?  Bring  better,  or  never  let 
me  look  on  your  wizened  old  wicked  face  again." 

Exit  Juan-beg-Marry-a-thruss,  perhaps  with  butter 
and  eggs  flying  after  his  retreating  figure. 

The  Gambling  Bishop 

This  is  an  imaginary  picture,  but  no  less  outrageous 
things  happened  whereof  the  records  remain.  A 
demoralised  laity  usually  co-exists  with  a  demoral- 
ised clergy,  and  there  are  some  bad  stories  of  »the 
Bishops  who  preceded  the  Reformation.      There  is 


72  THE   LITTLE  MANX   NATION  [lect.ii 

one  story  of  a  Bishop  of  that  period,  who  was  a  gross 
drunkard  and  notorious  gambler.  He  played  with 
his  clergy  as  long  as  they  had  anything  to  lose,  and 
then  he  played  with  a  deemster  and  lost  five  hundred 
pounds  himself.  Poor  little  island,  that  had  two 
such  men  for  its  masters,  the  one  its  master  in 
the  things  of  this  world,  the  other  its  master  in  the 
things  of  the  world  to  come  !  If  anything  is  need- 
ful to  complete  the  picture  of  wretchedness  in  which 
the  poor  Manx  people  must  have  existed  then,  it  is 
the  knowledge  of  what  manner  of  man  a  deemster 
was  in  those  days,  what  his  powers  were,  and  how 
he  exercised  them. 

The  Deemsters 

The  two  deemsters — a  name  of  obvious  sig- 
nificance, deem-sters,  such  as  deem  the  laws — 
were  then  the  only  judges  of  the  island,  all  other 
legal  functionaries  being  of  more  recent  date.  On 
entering  into  office,  the  deemster  took  an  oath, 
which  is  sworn  by  all  deemsters  to  this  day, 
declaring  by  the  wonderful  works  which  God  hath 
miraculously  wrought  in  six  days  and  seven  nights, 
that  he  would  execute  the  laws  of  the  island  justly 


r.ECT.  n]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  73 

"  betwixt   party  and   party,   as   indifferently  as  the 
herring's    backbone    doth    lie   in    the    midst    of  the 
fish."      But    these   laws   down   to  the    time    of  the 
second   Stanley  existed   only  in  the  breasts  of  the 
deemsters  themselves,  being  therefore  called  Breast 
Laws,  and  thus  they  were  supposed  to  be  handed 
down     orally    from    deemster    to    deemster.       The 
superstition  fostered  corruption  as  well  as  incapacity, 
and   it   will  not   be  wronging  the  truth  to  say  that 
some  of  the  deemsters  of  old  time  were  both  ignorant 
and   unprincipled.      Their  jurisdiction  was  absolute 
in  all  that  were  then  thought  to  be  temporal  affairs, 
beginning  with  a  debt  of  a  shilling,  and  going  up  to 
murder.      They  kept  their  courts  in  the  centres  of 
their  districts,  one  of  them  being  in  the  north  of  the 
island,  the  other  in  the   south,  but   they  were  free 
to  hold   a  court .  anywhere,   and   at   any  time.      A 
deemster  riding  from   Ramsey   to    Peel   might  find 
his  way  stopped  by  a  noisy  claimant,  who   held  his    • 
defendant  by  the  lug,  having  dragged  him  bodily  from 
the  field   to  the  highway,   to  receive  instant  judg- 
ment from  the  judge  riding  past.      Or  at  midnight, 
in   his  own   home,  a  deemster  might  be  broken  in 
upon  by  a  clamorous  gang  of  disputants  and  their 
witnesses,    who    came   from   the   pot-house   for   the 


74  THE  LITTLE   MANX   NATION  [iect.ii 

settlement  of  their  differences.  On  such  occasions, 
the  deemster  invariably  acted  on  the  sound  old 
legal  maxim,  once  recognised  by  an  Act  of  Parlia- 
ment, that  suits  not  likely  to  bear  good  costs  should 
always  be  settled  out  of  court.  First,  the  deemster 
demanded  his  fee.  If  neither  claimant  nor  defend- 
ant could  give  it,  he  probably  troubled  himself  no 
further  than  to  take  up  his  horse-whip  and  drive 
both  out  into  the  road.  I  dare  say  there  were 
many  good  men  among  deemsters  of  the  old  order, 
who  loved  justice  for  its  own  sake,  and  liked  to  sec 
the  poor  and  the  weak  righted,  but  the  memory  of 
deemsters  of  this  kind  is  not  green.  The  bulk 
of  men  are  not  better  than  their  opportunities,  and 
the  temptations  of  the  deemsters  of  old  were  neither 
Hew  nor  slight. 

The  Bishopric  Vacant 

With  such  masters  in  the  State,  and  such 
masters  in  the  Church,  the  island  fell  low  in 
material  welfare,  and  its  poverty  reacted  on  both. 
Within  fifty  years  the  Bishopric  was  nineteen  years 
vacant,  though  it  may  be  that  at  the  beginning  of  the 
seventeenth  century  this  was  partly  due  to  religious 


lect.ii]  THE   LITTLE   MANX  NATION  75 

disturbances.  Then  in  1697,  with  the  monasteries 
and  nunneries  dispersed,  the  abbeys  in  ruins,  the 
cathedral  church  a  wreck,  the  clergy  sunk  in  sloth 
and  ignorance,  there  came  to  the  Bishopric,  four 
years  vacant,  a  true  man  whose  name  on  the  page 
of  Manx  Church  history  is  like  a  star  on  a 
dark  night,  when  only  one  is  shining — Bishop 
Thomas  Wilson.  He  was  a  strange  and  complex 
creature,  half  angel,  only  half  man,  the  serenest  of 
saints,  and  yet  almost  the  bitterest  of  tyrants.  Let 
me  tell  you  about  him. 

Bishop  Wilson 

Thomas  Wilson  was  from  Trinity  College, 
Dublin,  and  became  domestic  chaplain  to  William, 
Earl  of  Derby,  and  preceptor  to  the  EaiTs  son, 
who  died  young.  While  he  held  this  position, 
the  Bishopric  of  Sodor  and  Man  became  vacant, 
and  it  was  offered  to  him.  He  declined  it,  think- 
ing himself  unworthy  of  so  high  a  trust.  The 
Bishopric  continued  vacant.  Perhaps  the  can- 
didates for  it  were  few  ;  certainly  the  emoluments 
were  small  ;  perhaps  the  patron  was  slothful — 
certainly  he  gave  little  attention  to  the  Church.     At 


76  THE   LITTLE   MANX   NATION  [i.ect.  ii 

length  complaint  was  made  to  the  King  that  the 
spiritual  needs  of  the  island  were  being  neglected. 
The  Earl  was  commanded  to  fill  the  Bishopric,  and 
once  again  he  offered  it  to  his  chaplain.  Then 
Wilson  yielded.  He  took  possession  in  1698,  and 
was  enthroned  at  Peel  Castle.  The  picture  of  his 
enthronement  must  have  been  something  to  remem- 
ber. Peel  Castle  was  already  tumbling  to  its  fall,  and 
the  cathedral  church  was  a  woful  wreck.  It  is 
even  said  that  from  a  hole  in  the  roof  the  soil  and 
rain  could  enter,  and  blades  of  grass  were  shooting 
up  on  the  altar.  The  Bishop's  house  at  Kirk 
Michael,  which  had  been  long  shut  up,  was  in  a 
similar  plight  ;  damp,  mouldy,  broken-windowed, 
green  with  moss  within  and  without.  What  would 
one  give  to  turn  back  the  centuries  and  look  on 
at  that  primitive  ceremony  in  St.  Germain's  Chapel 
in  April  1 698 !  There  would  be  the  clergy,  a 
sorry  troop,  with  wise  and  good  men  among  them, 
no  doubt,  but  a  poor,  battered,  bedraggled, 
neglected  lot,  chiefly  learned  in  dubious  arts  of 
collecting  tithes.  And  the  Bishop  himself,  the 
good  chaplain  of  Earl  Derby,  the  preceptor  of  his 
son,  what  a  face  he  must  have  had  to  watch  and 
to    study,   as   he    stood    there    that   April  morning, 


lect.  ii]  THE   LITTLE   MANX   NATION  -77 

and  saw  for  the  first  time  what  work  he   had  come 
to  tackle  ! 

Bishop  Wilson's  Censures 

But  Bishop  Wilson  set  about  his  task  with  a 
strong  heart,  and  a  resolute  hand.  He  found  him- 
self in  a  twofold  trust.  Since  the  Reformation,  the 
monasteries  and  nunneries  had  been  dispersed, 
and  all  the  baronies  had  been  broken  up,  save  one, 
the  barony  of  the  Bishop.  Thus  Bishop  Wilson 
was  the  head  of  the  court  of  his  barony.  This  was 
a  civil  court  with  power  of  jurisdiction  over  felonies. 
Its  separate  criminal  control  came  to  an  end  in  1777- 
Such  was  Bishop  Wilson's  position  as  last  and  sole 
Baron  of  Man.  Then  as  head  of  the  Church  he 
had  powers  over  offences  which  were  once  called 
offences  against  common  law.  Irregular  behaviour, 
cursing,  quarrelling,  and  drinking,  as  well  as  trans- 
gressions of  the  moral  code,  adultery,  seduction, 
prostitution,  and  the  like,  were  punishable  by  the 
Church  and  the  Church  courts.  The  censures  of 
Bishop  Wilson  on  such  offences  did  not  err  on  the 
side  of  clemency.  He  was  the  enemy  of  sin,  and 
no  "  ecntle  foe  of  sinners."      He  was  a   believer  in 


7S  THE  LITTLE  MANX   NATION  [lect.  ii 

witchcraft,  nnd  for  suspicion  of  commerce  with  evil 
spirits  and  possession  of  the  evil  eye  he  punished 
many  a  blameless  old  body.  For  open  and  con- 
victed adultery  he  caused  the  offenders  to  stand  for 
an  hour  at  high  fair  at  each  of  the  market-places 
of  Douglas,  Peel,  Ramsey,  and  Castletown,  bearing 
labels  on  their  breasts  calling  on  all  people  to  take 
warning  lest  they  came  under  the  same  Church  cen- 
sure. Common  unchastity  he  punished  by  expo- 
sure in  church  at  full  congregation,  when  the 
guilty  man  or  the  poor  victimised  girl  stepped  up 
from  the  west  porch  to  the  altar,  covered  from  neck 
to  heels  in  a  white  sheet.  Slanderers  and  evil 
speakers  he  clapped  into  the  Peel,  or  perhaps  the 
whipping-stocks,  with  tongue  in  a  noose  of  leather, 
and  when  after  a  lapse  of  time  the  gag  was  re- 
moved the  liberated  tongue  was  obliged  to  denounce 
itself  by  saying  thrice,  clearly,  boldly,  probably  with 
good  accent  and  discretion,  "  False  tongue,  thou 
hast  lied.' 

It  is  perhaps  as  well  that  some  of  us  did  not  live 
in  Bishop  Wilson's  time.  We  might  not  have 
lived  long.  If  the  Church  still  held  and  exercised 
the  same  powers  over  evil  speakers  we  should 
never  hear  our  own  ears  in  the   streets   for  the  din 


lect.  n]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  ^9 

of  the  voices  of  the  penitents  ;  and  if  it  still 
punished  unchastity  in  a  white  sheet  the  trade  of 
the  linen  weaver  would  be  brisk. 

You  will  say  that  I  have  justified  my  statement 
that  Bishop  Wilson  was  the  bitterest  of  tyrants. 
Let  me  now  establish  my  opinion  that  he  was  also 
the  serenest  of  saints.  I  have  told  you  how  low 
was  the  condition  of  the  Church,  how  lax  its  rule, 
how  deep  its  clergy  lay  in  sloth  and  ignorance,  and 
perhaps  also  in  vice,  when  Bishop  Wilson  came  to 
Man  in  1698.  Well,  in  1703,  only  five  years  later, 
the  Lord  Chancellor  King  said  this  :  "  If  the  an- 
cient discipline  of  the  Church  were  lost  elsewhere  it 
might  be  found  in  all  its  force  in  the  Isle  of  Man." 
This  points  first  to  force  and  vigour  on  the  Bishop's 
part,  but  surely  it  also  points  to  purity  of  character 
and  nobility  of  aim.  Bishop  Wilson  began  by 
putting  his  own  house  in  order.  His  clergy  ceased 
to  gamble  and  to  drink,  and  they  were  obliged  to 
collect  their  tithes  with  mercy.  He  once  suspended 
a  clergyman  for  an  opinion  on  a  minor  point,  but 
many  times  he  punished  his  clergy  for  offences 
against  the  moral  law  and  the  material  welfare  of 
the  poor.  In  a  stiff  fight  for  integrity  of  life  and 
purity  of  thought,  he  spared  none.      I  truly  believe 


So  THE   LITTLE   MANX   NATION  [lect.  11 

that  if  he  had  caught  himself  in  an  act  of  gross  in- 
justice he  would  have  clambered  up  into  the  pillory. 
1  le  was  a  brave,  strong-hearted  creature,  of  the  build 
of  a  great  man.  Yes  !  In  spite  of  all  his  contradic- 
tions, he  was  a  great  man.  We  Manxmen  shall 
never  look  upon  his  like  again  ! 

The  Great  Corn  Famine 

Towards  1740  a  long  and  terrible  corn  famine 
fell  upon  our  island.  The  fisheries  had  failed  that 
season,  and  the  crops  had  been  blighted  two  years 
running.  Miserably  poor  at  all  times,  ill-clad,  ill- 
housed,  ill-fed  at  the  best,  the  people  were  in 
danger  of  sheer  destitution.  In  that  day  of  their 
bitter  trouble  the  poorest  of  the  poor  trooped  off  to 
Bishop's  court.  The  Bishop  threw  open  his  house 
to  them  all,  good  and  bad,  improvident  and  thrifty, 
lazy  and  industrious,  drunken  and  sober  ;  he  made 
no  distinctions  in  that  bad  hour.  He  asked  no 
man  for  his  name  who  couldn't  give  it,  no  woman 
for  her  marriage  lines  who  hadn't  got  them,  no 
child  whether  it  was  born  in  wedlock.  That  they 
were  all  hungry  was  all  he  knew,  and  he  saved 
their  lives  in  thousands.      He   bought  ship-loads  or 


lect.ii]  THE   LITTLE  MANX  NATION  8 1 

English    corn    and   served    it   out   in   bushels  ;    also 
tons   of    Irish    potatoes,   and    served    them   out    in 
kischens.      He  gave  orders  that  the  measure  was  to 
be   piled    as    high    as    it    would    hold,    and    never 
smoothed   flat   again.      Yet   he  was   himself  a  poor 
man.      While   he   had   money  he  spent   it.      When 
every  penny  was   gone   he   pledged   his  revenue   in 
advance.      After  his  credit  was  done   he   begged   in 
England  for  his  poor  people  in  Man — he  begged  for  us 
who  would   not   have   held   out   his   hat  to  save   his 
own  life !      God   bless   him  !      But  we   repaid   him. 
Oh  yes,  we  repaid  him.      His  money  he   never  got 
back,   but    gold   is   not    the   currency   of    the   other 
world.      Prayers  and   blessings  are  the  wealth  that 
is  there,  and   these  went  up  after  him   to   the  great 
White   Throne    from    the    swelling    throats   of    his 
people. 

The  Bishop  at  Court 

Not  of  Bishop  Wilson  could  it  be  said,  as  it  was 
said  of  another,  that  he  "  flattered  princes  in  the 
temple  of  God."  One  day,  when  he  was  coming  to 
Court,  Queen  Caroline  saw  him  and  said  to  a  com- 
pany of  Bishops  and  Archbishops  that  surrounded 

F 


82  THE  LITTLE  MANX   NATION  [lect.ii 

her,  "  See,  my  lords,  here  is  a  Bishop  who  does 
not  come  for  a  translation."  "  No,  indeed,  and 
please  your  Majesty,"  said  Bishop  Wilson,  "  I  will 
not  leave  my  wife  in  her  old  age  because  she  is 
poor."  When  Bishop  Wilson  was  an  old  man, 
Cardinal  Fleury  sent  over  to  ask  after  his  age  and 
health,  saying  that  they  were  the  two  oldest  and 
poorest  Bishops  in  the  world.  At  the  same  time 
he  got  an  order  that  no  French  privateer  should 
ever  ravage  the  Isle  of  Man.  The  order  has  long 
lapsed,  but  I  am  told  that  to  this  day  French  sea- 
men respect  a  Manxman.  It  touches  me  to  think  of 
it  that  thus  does  the  glory  of  this  good  man's  life 
shine  on  our  faces  still. 

Stories  of  Bishop  Wilson 

How  his  people  must  have  loved  him  !  Many  of 
the  stories  told  of  him  are  of  rather  general  applica- 
tion, but  some  of  them  ought  to  be  true  if  they 
are  not. 

One  day  in  the  old  three-cornered  market-place 
at  Ramsey  a  little  maiden  of  seven  crossed  his 
path.  She  was  like  sunshine,  rosy-cheeked,  bright- 
eyed,  bare-footed   and   bare-headed,  and  for  love  of 


lzct.  n]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  S3 

her  sweetness  the  grey  old  Bishop  patted  her  head 
and  blest  her.  "  God  bless  you,  my  child  ;  God  bless 
you,"  he  said.  The  child  curtseyed  and  answered, 
"  God  bless  you,  too,  sir."  "  Thank  you,  child, 
thank  you,"  the  Bishop  said  again  ;  "  I  dare  say  your 
blessing  will  be  as  good  as  mine." 

It  was  customary  in  those  days,  and  indeed 
down  to  my  own  time,  when  a  suit  of  clothes  was 
wanted,  to  have  the  journeyman  tailor  at  home  tc 
make  it.  One,  Danny  of  that  ilk,  was  once  at 
Bishop's  Court  making  a  long  walking  coat  for  the 
Bishop.  In  trying  it  on  in  its  nebulous  condition, 
that  leprosy  of  open  white  seams  and  stitches, 
Danny  made  numerous  chalk  marks  to  indicate  the 
places  of  the  buttons.  "  No,  no,  Danny,"  said  the 
Bishop,  "  no  more  buttons  than  enough  to  fasten  it 
— only  one,  that  will  do.  It  would  ill  become  a 
poor  priest  like  me  to  go  a-glitter  with  things  like 
those."  Now,  Danny  had  already  bought  his 
buttons,  and  had  them  at  that  moment  in  his 
pocket.  So,  pulling  a  woful  face,  he  said,  "  Mercy 
me,  my  lord,  what  would  happen  to  the  poor  button- 
makers,  if  everybody  was  of  your  opinion  ? " 
"  Button  it  all  over,  Danny,"  said  the  Bishop.  A 
coat  of  Bishop  Wilson's  still  exists.      Would  that 


84  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lect.  ii 

we  had  that  one  of  the  numerous  buttons,  and  could 
get  a  few  more  made  of  the  same  pattern  !  It  would 
be  out  of  fashion — Danny's  progeny  have  taken 
care  of  that.  There  are  not  many  of  us  that  it 
would  fit — we  have  few  men  of  Bishop  Wilson's 
build  nowadays.  But  human  kindliness  is  never 
old-fashioned,  and  there  are  none  of  us  that  the 
garment  of  sweet  grace  would  not  suit. 

Quarrels  of  Church  and   State 

So  far  from  "  flattering  princes  in   the  temple   of 
God,"  Bishop  Wilson  was  even  morbidly  jealous  of 
the  authority  of  the  Church,  and  he  resisted  that  of 
the  State  when  the  civil  powers  seemed  to  encroach 
upon    it.      More  than   once   he   came   into  collision 
with  the  State's  highest  functionary,  the  Lieutenant- 
Governor,  representative  of  the   Lord   of  Man   him- 
self.     One  day  the  Governor's  wife  falsely  defamed 
a    lady,    and    the    lady    appealed    to    the    Bishop. 
Thereupon    the   Bishop  interdicted  the  Governor's 
wife    from    receiving     the     communion.      But     the 
Governor's  chaplain  admitted  her.     Straightway  the 
Bishop  suspended  the   Governor's  chaplain.      Then 
the  Governor  fined  the  Bishop  in   the  sum   of  fifty 


lect.  n]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  85 

pounds.  The  Bishop  refused  to  pay,  and  was  com- 
mitted to  Castle  Rushen,  and  lay  there  two  months. 
They  show  us  his  cell,  a  poor,  dingy  little  box,  so 
damp  in  his  day  that  he  lost  the  use  of  some  of 
his  fingers.  After  that  the  Bishop  appealed  to  the 
Lord,  who  declared  the  imprisonment  illegal.  The 
Bishop  was  liberated,  and  half  the  island  went  to 
the  prison  gate  to  fetch  him  forth  in  triumph.  The 
only  result  was  that  the  Bishop  lost  £500,  whereof 
£300  were  subscribed  by  the  people.  One  hardly 
knows  whether  to  laugh  or  cry  at  it  all.  It  is  a 
sorry  and  silly  farce.  Of  course  it  made  a  tremen- 
dous hurly-burly  in  its  day,  but  it  is  gone  now,  and 
doesn't  matter  a  ha'porth  to  anybody.  Nevertheless 
because  Gessler's  cap  goes  up  so  often  nowadays, 
and  so  many  of  us  are  kneeling  to  it,  it  is  good  and 
wholesome  to  hear  of  a  poor  Bishop  who  was  brave 
enough  to  take  a  shot  at  it  instead. 

Some  Old  Ordeals 

Notwithstanding  Bishop  Wilson's  severity,  his 
tyranny,  his  undue  pride  in  the  authority  of  the 
Church,  and  his  morbid  jealousy  of  the  powers  of 
the  State,  his  rule  was  a  wise  and  just  one,  and   he 


86  THE  LITTLE  MANX   NATION  [lect.  ii 

was  a  spiritual  statesman,  who  needed  not  to  be 
ashamed.  He  raised  the  tone  of  life  in  the  Isle  of 
Man,  made  it  possible  to  accept  a  man's  yea  and 
nay,  even  in  those  perilous  issues  of  life  where  the 
weakness  and  meanness  of  poor  humanity  reveals 
itself  in  lies  and  subterfuges.  This  he  did  by 
making  false  swearing  a  terror.  One  ancient 
ordeal  of  swearing  he  set  his  face  against,  but 
another  he  encouraged,  and  often  practised.  Let 
me  describe  both. 

In  the  old  days,  when  a  man  died  intestate, 
leaving  no  record  of  his  debts,  a  creditor  might 
establish  a  claim  by  going  with  the  Bishop  to  the 
grave  of  Jie  dead  man  at  midnight,  stretching  him- 
self on  it  with  face  towards  heaven  and  a  Bible  on 
his  breast,  and  then  saying  solemnly,  "  I  swear  that 
So-and-so,  who  lies  buried  here,  died  in  my  debt  by 
so  much."  After  that  the  debt  was  allowed.  What 
warning  the  Bishop  first  pronounced  I  do  not  know, 
but  the  scene  is  a  vivid  one,  even  if  we  think  of  the 
creditor  as  swearing  truly,  and  a  startling  and 
terrible  one  if  we  think  of  him  as  about  to  swear 
to  what  is  false.  The  dark  night,  the  dark  figures 
moving  in  it,  the  churchyard,  the  debtor's  grave,  the 
sham  creditor,  who  had   been   loud   in   his  protests 


lect.  n]  THE  LITTLE   MANX  NATION  87 

under  the  light  of  the  inn  of  the  village,  now 
quaking  and  trembling  as  the  Bishop's  warning 
comes  out  of  the  gloom,  then  stammering,  and 
breaking  down,  and  finally,  with  ghostly  visions  of 
a  dead  hand  clutching  at  him  from  the  grave, 
starting  up,  shrieking,  and  flying  away.  It  is  a 
nightmare.  Let  us  not  remember  it  when  the 
candles  are  put  out. 

This  ordeal  was  in  force  until  the  seventeenth 
century,  but  Bishop  Wilson  judged  it  un-Christian, 
and  never  practised  it.  The  old  Roman  canon  law 
of  Purgation,  a  similar  ordeal,  he  used  not  rarely. 
It  was  designed  to  meet  cases  of  slander  in  which 
there  was  no  direct  and  positive  evidence.  If  a 
good  woman  had  been  accused  of  unchastity  in  that 
vague  way  of  rumour  which  is  always  more 
damaging  and  devilish  than  open  accusation,  she 
might  of  her  own  free  choice,  or  by  compulsion  of 
the  Bishop,  put  to  silence  her  false  accusers  by 
appearing  in  church,  with  witnesses  ready  to  take 
oath  that  they  believed  her,  and  there  swearing  at 
the  altar  that  common  fame  and  suspicion  had 
wronged  her.  If  a  man  doubted  her  word  he  had 
to  challenge  it,  or  keep  silence  for  ever  after.  The 
severest  censures  of  the  Church  were  passed   upon 


SS  THE  LITTLE   MANX  NATION  [lect.  u 

those  who  dared  to  repeat  an  unproved  accusation 
after  the  oaths  of  Purgation  and  Compurgation  had 
been  taken  unchallenged.  It  is  a  fine,  honest 
ordeal,  very  old,  good  for  the  right,  only  bad  for 
the  wrong,  giving  strength  to  the  weak  and 
humbling  the  mighty.  But  it  would  be  folly  and 
mummery  in  our  day.  The  Church  has  lost  its 
powers  over  life  and  limb,  and  no  one  capable  of 
defaming  a  pure  woman  would  care  a  brass  penny 
about  the  Church's  excommunication.  Yet  a 
woman's  good  name  is  the  silver  thread  that  runs 
through  the  pearl  chain  of  her  virtues.  Pity  that 
nowadays  it  can  be  so  easily  snapped.  Conver- 
sation at  five  o'clock  tea  is  enough  to  do  that.  The 
ordeal  of  compulsory  Purgation  was  abolished  in 
Man  as  late  as  1737. 

The  Herring  Fishery 

Bishop  Wilson  began,  or  revived,  a  form  of 
service  which  was  so  beautiful,  so  picturesque,  and 
withal  so  Manx  that  I  regret  the  loss  of  scarce  any 
custom  so  much  as  the  discontinuance  of  this  one. 
It  was  the  fishermen's  service  on  the  shore  at  the 
beginning  of  the   herring-season.      But   in  order  to 


lect.  n]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  89 

appreciate  it  you  must  first  know  something  of  the 
herring  fishing  itself.  It  is  the  chief  industry  of 
the  island.  Half  the  population  is  connected  with 
it  in  some  way.  A  great  proportion  of  the  men  of 
the  humbler  classes  are  half  seamen,  half  landsmen, 
tilling  their  little  crofts  in  the  spring  and  autumn, 
and  going  out  with  the  herring  boats  in  summer. 
The  herring  is  the  national  fish.  The  Manxman 
swears  by  its  flavour.  The  deemsters,  as  we  have 
seen,  literally  swear  by  its  backbone.  Potatoes 
and  herrings  constitute  a  common  dish  of  the 
country  people.  They  are  ready  for  it  at  any 
hour  of  the  day  or  night.  I  have  had  it  for 
dinner,  I  have  taken  it  for  supper,  I  have  seen  it 
for  tea,  and  even  known  it  for  breakfast.  It  is 
served  without  ceremony.  In  the  middle  of  the 
table  two  great  crocks,  one  of  potatoes  boiled  in 
their  jackets,  the  other  of  herrings  fresh  or  salted  ; 
a  plate  and  a  bowl  of  new  milk  at  every  seat,  and 
lumps  of  salt  here  and  there.  To  be  a  Manxman 
you  must  eat  Manx  herrings  ;  there  is  a  story  that 
to  transform  himself  into  a  Manxman  one  of  the 
Dukes  of  Athol  ate  twenty-four  of  them  at  break- 
fast, a  herring  for  every  member  of  his  House 
of  Keys. 


9o  THE   LITTLE   MANX  NATION  [lkct.  " 

The  Manx  herring  fishery  is  interesting  and  very 
picturesque.  You  know  that  the  herrings  come 
from  northern  latitudes.  Towards  mid-winter  a 
vast  colony  of  them  set  out  from  the  arctic  seas, 
closely  pursued  by  innumerable  sea-fowl,  which  deal 
death  among  the  little  emigrants.  They  move  in 
two  divisions,  one  westward  towards  the  coasts  of 
America,  the  other  eastward  in  the  direction  of 
Europe.  They  reach  the  Shetlands  in  April  and 
the  Isle  of  Man  about  June.  The  herring  is  fished 
at  night.  To  be  out  with  the  herring  boats  is  a 
glorious  experience  on  a  calm  night.  You  have  set 
sail  with  the  fleet  of  herring  boats  about  sun-down, 
and  you  are  running  before  a  light  breeze  through 
the  dusk.  The  sea-gulls  are  skimming  about  the 
brown  sails  of  your  boat.  They  know  what  you 
are  going  to  do,  and  have  come  to  help  you. 
Presently  you  come  upon  a  flight  of  them  wheeling 
and  diving  in  the  gathering  darkness.  Then  you 
know  that  you  have  lit  on  the  herring  shoal.  The 
boat  is  brought  head  to  the  wind  and  left  to  drift. 
By  this  time  the  stars  are  out,  perhaps  the  moon 
also — though  too  much  moon  is  not  good  for  the 
fishing — and  you  can  just  descry  the  dim  outline 
of   the    land    againsj    the    dark    blue   of   the    sky. 


lect.  ii]  THE  LITTLE   MANX   NATION  gi 

Luminous  patches  of  phosphorescent  light  begin  tc 
move  in  the  water.  "  The  mar-fire's  rising/'  say 
the  fishermen,  the  herring  are  stirring.  "  Let's 
make  a  shot ;  up  with  the  gear,"  cries  the  skipper, 
and  nets  are  hauled  from  below,  passed  over  the 
bank-board,  and  paid  out  into  the  sea — a  solid  wall 
of  meshes,  floating  upright,  nine  feet  deep  and  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  long.  It  is  a  calm,  clear  night, 
just  light  enough  to  see  the  buoys  on  the  back  of 
the  first  net.  The  lamp  is  fixed  on  the  mitch-board. 
All  is  silence,  only  the  steady  plash,  plash,  plash  of 
the  slow  waters  on  the  boat's  side  ;  no  singing 
among  the  men,  no  chaff,  no  laughter,  all  quiet 
aboard,  for  the  fishermen  believe  that  the  fish  can 
hear ;  all  quiet  around,  where  the  deep  black  of  the 
watery  pavement  is  brightened  by  the  reflection  of 
stars.  Then  out  of  the  white  phosphorescent 
patches  come  minute  points  of  silver  and  countless 
faint  popping  sounds.  The  herrings  are  at  play 
about  the  nets.  You  see  them  in  numbers  exceed- 
ing imagination,  shoals  on  shoals.  "  Pull  up  now, 
there's  a  heavy  strike,"  cries  the  skipper,  and  the 
nets  are  hauled  up,  and  come  in  white  and  moving 
— a  solid  block  of  fish,  cheep,  cheep,  cheeping  like 
birds  in  the  early  morning.      At   the  grey  of  dawn 


92  THE  LITTLE  MANX   NATION  [lect.  11 

the  boats  begin  to  run  for  home,  and  the  sun  is 
shining  as  the  fleet  makes  the  harbour.  Men  and 
women  are  waiting  there  to  buy  the  night's  catch. 
The  quay  is  full  of  them,  bustling,  shouting, 
laughing,  quarrelling,  counting  the  herrings,  and 
so  forth. 

The  Fishermen's  Service 

Such  is  the  herring  fishery  of  Man.  Bishop 
Wilson  knew  how  bitter  a  thing  it^could  be  if  this 
industry  failed  the  island  even  for  a  single  season. 
So,  with  absolute  belief  in  the  Divine  government  of 
the  world,  he  wrote  a  Service  to  be  held  on  the  first 
day  of  the  herring  season,  asking  for  God's  blessing 
on  the  harvest  of  the  sea.  The  scene  of  that 
service  must  have  been  wondrously  beautiful  and 
impressive.  Why  does  not  some  great  painter 
paint  it  ?  Let  me,  by  the  less  effectual  vehicle  of 
words,  attempt  to  realise  what  it  must  have  been. 

The  place  of  it  was  Peel  bay,  a  wide  stretch  of 
beach,  with  a  gentle  slope  to  the  left,  dotted  over 
with  grey  houses  ;  the  little  town  farther  on,  with  its 
nooks  and  corners,  its  blind  alleys  and  dark  lanes, 
its  narrow,  crabbed,  crooked  streets.      Behind  this 


lect.  11]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  93 

the  old  pier  and  the  herring  boats  rocking  in  the 
harbour,  with  their  brown  sails  half  set,  waiting  for 
the  top  of  the  tide.  In  the  distance  the  broad 
breast  of  Contrary  Head,  and,  a  musket-shot  outside 
of  it,  the  little  rocky  islet  whereon  stand  the  stately 
ruins  of  the  noble  old  Peel  Castle.  The  beach  is 
dotted  over  with  people — old  men,  in  their  curranes. 
and  undyed  stockings,  leaning  on  their  sticks  ;  chil- 
dren playing  on  the  shingle  ;  young  women  in  groups, 
dressed  in  sickle-shaped  white  sun-bonnets,  and 
with  petticoats  tucked  up  ;  old  women  in  long  blue 
homespun  cloaks.  But  these  are  only  the  back- 
ground of  the  human  picture.  In  the  centre  of  it 
is  a  wide  circle  of  fishermen,  men  and  boys,  of  all 
sizes  and  sorts,  from  the  old  Admiral  of  the  herring 
fleet  to  the  lad  that  helps  the  cook — rude  figures  in 
blue  and  with  great  sea-boots.  They  are  on  their 
knees  on  the  sand,  with  their  knitted  caps  at  their 
rusty  faces,  and  in  the  middle  of  them,  standing  in 
an  old  broken  boat,  is  the  Bishop  himself,  bare- 
headed, white-headed,  with  upturned  face  praying 
for  the  fishing  season  that  is  about  to  begin.  The 
June  day  is  sweet  and  beautiful,  and  the  sun  is 
going  down  behind  the  castle.  Some  sea-gulls  are 
disporting  on  the   rock  outside,  and,  save  for  their 


94  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lect.  n 

jabbering  cries,  and  the  boom  of  the  sea  from  the 
red  horizon,  and  the  gentle  plash  of  the  wavelets  on 
the  pebbles  of  the  shore,  nothing  is  heard  but  the 
slow  tones  of  the  Bishop  and  the  fishermen's  deep 
Amen.  Such  was  Bishop  Wilson's  fishermen's 
service.      It  is  gone  ;  more's  the  pity. 

Some  Old  Laws 

The  spiritual  laws  of  Man  were  no  dead  letters 
when  Bishop  Wilson  presided  over  its  spiritual 
courts.  lie  was  good  to  illegitimate  children, 
making  them  legitimate  if  their  parents  married 
within  two  years  of  their  birth,  and  often  putting 
them  on  the  same  level  with  their  less  injured 
brothers  and  sisters  where  inheritance  was  in  ques- 
tion. But  he  was  unmerciful  to  the  parents  them- 
selves. There  is  one  story  of  his  treatment  of  a 
woman  which  passes  all  others  in  its  tyranny.  It 
is,  perhaps,  the  only  deep  stain  on  his  character. 
I  thank  God  that  it  can  never  have  come  to  the 
ears  of  Victor  Hugo.  Told  as  Hugo  would  have 
told  it,  surely  it  must  have  blasted  for  ever  the 
name  of  a  good  man.  It  is  the  dark  story  ot 
Katherine  Kinrade. 


lect.  n]  THE  LITTLE   MANX   NATION  95 

Katherine  Kinrade 

She  was  a  poor  ruin  of  a  woman,  belonging  to 
Kirk  Christ,  but  wandering  like  a  vagrant  over  the 
island.  The  fact  of  first  consequence  is,  that  she 
was  only  half  sane.  In  the  language  of  the  clergy 
of  the  time,  she  "  had  a  degree  of  unsettledness  and 
defect  of  understanding."  Thus  she  was  the  sort 
of  human  wreck  that  the  world  finds  it  easy  to 
fling  away.  Katherine  fell  victim  to  the  sin  that 
was  not  her  own.  A  child  was  born.  The  Church 
censured  her.  She  did  penance  in  a  white  sheet 
at  the  church  doors.  But  her  poor,  dull  brain  had 
no  power  to  restrain  her.  A  second  child  was 
born.  Then  the  Bishop  committed  her  for  twenty- 
one  days  to  his  prison  at  the  Peel.  Let  me  tell 
you  what  the  place  is  like.  It  is  a  crypt  of  the 
cathedral  church.  You  enter  it  by  a  little  door  in 
the  choir,  leading  to  a  tortuous  flight  of  steep  steps 
going  down.  It  is  a  chamber  cut  out  of  the  rock 
of  the  little  island,  dark,  damp,  and  noisome.  A 
small  aperture  lets  in  the  light,  as  well  as  the  sound 
of  the  sea  beating  on  the  rocks  below.  The  roof, 
if  you   could   see  it   in  the   gloom,  is  groined   and 


9C  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lect.  11 

ribbed,  and   above  it  is  the  mould  of  ninny  graves, 
for  in  the  old  days  bodies  were  buried  in  the  choir. 
Can  you  imagine    a  prison   more  terrible   for  any 
prisoner,  the  strongest  man  or  the  bravest  soldier  ? 
Think  of  it  on  a  tempestuous  night  in  winter.     The 
lonely  islet  rock,  with  the  swift  seas  rushing  around 
it ;  the  castle  half  a  ruin,  its  guard-room  empty,  its 
banqueting  hall  roofless,  its  sally  port   silent  ;  then 
the  cathedral    church   falling  to  decay ;  and  under 
the  floor  of  its  choir,  where   lie  the  graves  of  dead 
men,  this  black,  grim,  cold  cell,  silent  as  the  graves 
themselves,  save   for  the  roar  of  the  sea  as  it  beats 
in  the  darkness  on  the  rocks  outside  !      But  that  is 
not  enough.      We  have  to  think  of  this  gloomy  pile 
as  inhabited  on  such  a  night  of  terrors  by  only  one 
human  soul — this  poor,  bedraggled,  sin-laden  woman 
with  "  the  defect  of  understanding."     Can  anything 
be   more    awful  ?      Yet    there    is    worse    to   follow. 
The  records   tell   us   that   Katherine   Kinrade    sub- 
mitted to  her  punishment  "  with  as  much  discretion 
as    could   be   expected    of    the   like   of   her."      But 
such    punishments    do    not    cleanse   the    soul    that 
is    "  drenched     with    unhallowed    fire."       Perhaps 
Katherine  did   not    know  that   she    was   wronged  ; 
nevertheless  God's  image  was   being  trodden  out  of 
her.      She    went    from    bad    to    worse,    became    a 


lect.  n]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  97 

notorious  strumpet,  strolled  about  the  island,  and 
led  "  a  scandalous  life  on  other  accounts."  A 
third  child  was  born.  Then  the  Bishop  concluded 
that  for  the  honour  of  the  Christian  name,  "  to  pre- 
vent her  own  utter  destruction,  and  for  the  example 
of  others,"  at  imely  and  thorough  reformation  must 
be  made  by  a  further  and  severer  punishment.  It 
was  the  15th  day  of  March,  and  he  ordered  that  on 
the  17th  day,  being  the  fair  of  St.  Patrick,  at  the 
height  of  the  market,  the  said  Katherine  Kinrade 
should  be  taken  to  Peel  Town  in  charge  of  the 
general  sumner,  and  the  constables  and  soldiers  of 
the  garrison,  and  there  dragged  after  a  boat  in  the 
sea !  Think  of  it  !  On  a  bitter  day  in  March  this 
wretched  woman  with  the  "  defect  of  understanding  " 
was  to  be  dragged  through  the  sea  by  a  rope  tied 
to  the  tail  of  a  boat  !  And  if  any  owner,  master,  and 
crew  of  any  boat  proved  refractory  by  refusing  to 
perform  this  service  for  the  restraining  of  vice,  they 
'  were  to  be  subject  to  fine  and  imprisonment  !  When 
St.  Patrick's  Day  came  the  weather  was  so  stormy 
that  no  boat  could  live  in  the  bay,  but  on  St. 
Germain's  Day,  about  the  height  of  the  market,  the 
censure  was  performed.  After  undergoing  the 
punishment     the    miserable     soul     was    apparently 

G 


98  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lect.ii 

penitent,  "  according  to  her  capacity,"  took  the 
communion,  and  was  "  received  into  the  peace  of 
the  Church."  Poor  human  ruin,  defaced  image  of 
a  woman,  begrimed  and  buried  soul,  unchaste,  mis- 
shapen, incorrigible,  no  "juice  of  God's  distilling" 
ever  "  dropped  into  the  core  of  her  life,"  to  such 
punishment  she  was  doomed  by  the  tribunal  of  that 
saintly  man,  Bishop  Thomas  Wilson  !  She  has  met 
him  at  another  tribunal  since  then  ;  not  where  she 
lias  crouched  before  him,  but  where  she  has  stood  by 
his  side.  She  has  carried  her  great  account  against 
him,  to  Him  before  whom  the  proudest  are  as  chaff. 

None  spake  when  Wilson  stood  before 

The  Throne ; 

And  He  that  sat  thereon 
Spake  not ;  and  all  the  presence-floor 
Burnt  deep  with  blushes,  and  the  angels  cast 
Their  faces  downwards. — Then,  at  last, 

Awe-stricken,  he  was  ware 

How  on  the  emerald  stair 
A  woman  sat  divinely  clothed  in  white, 
And  at  her  knees  four  cherubs  bright, 

That  laid 
Their  heads  within  her  lap.     Then,  trembling,  he  essayed 

To  speak — '*  Christ's  mother,  pity  me  !  " 

Then  answered  she, 
"  Sir,  I  am  Katherine  Kinrade."* 

*  Unpublished  poem  by  the  author  of  "Fo'c's'le  Yarns." 


lect.  n]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  99 

Bishop  Wilson's  Lsst  Days 

Have  I  dashed  your  faith  in  my  hero  ?  Was  he 
indeed  the  bitterest  of  tyrants  as  well  as  the 
serenest  of  saints  ?  Yet  bethink  you  of  the  other 
good  men  who  have  done  evil  deeds  ?  King  David 
and  the  wife  of  Uriah,  Mahomet  and  his  adopted 
son  ;  the  gallery  of  memory  is  hung  round  with 
many  such  portraits.  Poor  humanity,  weak  at  the 
strongest,  impure  at  the  purest  ;  best  take  it  as  it 
is,  and  be  content.  Remember  that  a  good  man's 
vices  are  generally  the  excess  of  his  virtues.  It  was 
so  with  Bishop  Wilson.  Remember,  too,  that  it  is 
not  for  what  a  man  does,  but  for  what  he  means  to 
do,  that  we  love  him  or  hate  him  in  the  end.  And 
in  the  end  the  Manx  people  loved  Bishop  Wilson, 
and  still  they  bless  his  memory. 

We  have  a  glimpse  of  his  last  days,  and  it  is  full 
of  tender  beauty.  True  to  his  lights,  simple  and 
frugal  of  life,  God-fearing  and  strong  of  heart,  he 
lived  to  be  old.  Very  feeble,  his  beautiful  face 
grown  mellower  even  as  his  heart  was  softer  for 
his  many  years,  tottering  on  his  staff,  drooping  like 
a    white    flower,    he   went    in    and    out   among   his 


100  THE   LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lect.  „ 

people,  laying  his  trembling  hands  on  the  children's 
heads  and  blessing  them,  remembering  their  fathers 
and  their  fathers'  fathers.  Beloved  by  the  young, 
reverenced  by  the  old,  honoured  by  the  great, 
worshipped  by  the  poor,  living  in  sweet  patience, 
ready  to  die  in  hope.  His  day  was  done,  his 
night  was  near,  and  the  weary  toiler  was  willing 
to  go  to  his  rest.  Thus  passed  some  peaceful 
years.  He  died  in  1755,  and  was  followed  to  his 
grave  by  the  whole  Manx  nation.  His  tomb  is  our 
most  sacred  shrine.  We  know  his  faults,  but  we 
do  not  speak  of  them  there.  Call  a  truce  over  the 
place  of  the  old  man's  rest.  There  he  lies,  who 
was  once  the  saviour  of  our  people.  God  bless 
him  !  He  was  our  fathers'  bishop,  and  his  saintly 
face  still  shines  on  our  fathers'  children. 

The  Athol  Bishops 

Let  me  in  a  last  clause  attempt  a  sketch  of  the 
history  of  the  Manx  Church  in  the  century  or  more 
that  has  followed  Bishop  Wilson's  death.  The 
last  fifty  years  of  it  are  featureless,  save  for  an 
attempt  to  abolish  the  Bishopric.  This  foolish 
effort   first   succeeded   and   then    failed,   and   was  a 


lect.  n]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  101 

poor  bit  of  mummery  altogether,  ending  in  nothing 
but  waste  of  money  and  time,  and  breath  and  temper. 
The     fifty    years     immediately    succeeding    Bishop 
Wilson  were  full   of  activity.      But   so   far  as   the 
Church  was  concerned,  the  activity  was  not  always 
wholesome.      If  religion  was  kept  alive  in   Man  in 
those  evil  days,  and   the   soul   hunger  of  the  poor 
Manx    people    was    satisfied,    it    was    not    by    the 
masters  of  the   Manx   Church,   the   Pharisees  who 
gave  alms  in  the  streets  to  the  sound  of  a  trumpet 
going  before  them,  or  by  the   Levites  who  passed 
by  on  the  other  side  when  a  man  had  fallen   among 
thieves.      It  was  partly  by  dissent,  which  was  begun 
by    Wesley    in    1775    (after   Quakerism    had    been 
suppressed),  and  partly  by  a  small  minority  of  the 
Manx  clergy,   who  kept  going  the  early  evangeli- 
calism   of    Newton   and   Cowper   and    Cecil — dear, 
sunny,  simple-hearted   old    Manx  vicars,   who  took 
sweet  counsel  together  in  their  old-fashioned  homes, 
where  you  found   grace   in   all  senses  of  the  word, 
purity    of  soul,    the    life    of  the   mind,    and    gentle 
courtliness  of  manners. 

Bishop  Wilson's  successor  was  Doctor  Mark 
Hildlesley,  in  all  respects  a  worthy  man.  He 
completed    the   translation    of   the    Scriptures    into 


102  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lect.  ii 

Manx,  which  had  been  begun  by  his  predecessor, 
and  established  Sunday-schools  in  Man  before  they 
had  been  commenced  in  any  other  country.  But 
after  him  came  a  line  of  worthless  prelates,  Dr. 
Richmond,  remembered  for  his  unbending  haughti- 
ness ;  Dr.  Mason,  disgraced  by  his  debts  ;  and 
Claudius  Cregan,  a  bishop  unfit  to  be  a  curate. 
Do  you  not  read  between  the  broad  lines  of  such 
facts?  The  Athol  dynasty  was  now  some  thirty 
years  established  in  Man,  and  the  swashbuckler 
Court  of  fine  gentlemen  was  in  full  swing.  In  that 
costume  drama  of  soiled  lace  and  uproarious 
pleasures,  what  part  did  the  Church  play  ?  Was  it 
that  of  the  man  clad  in  camel's  skin,  living  on 
locusts  and  wild  honey,  and  calling  on  the  genera- 
tion of  revellers  to  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come  ? 
No  ;  but  that  of  the  lover  of  cakes  and  ale.  The 
records  of  this  period  are  few  and  scanty,  but  they 
are  full  enough  to  show  that  some  of  the  clergy  of 
the  Athols  knew  more  of  backgammon  than  of 
theology.  While  they  pandered  to  the  dissolute 
Court  they  lived  under,  going  the  errands  of  their 
masters  in  the  State,  fetching  and  carrying  for 
them,  and  licking  their  shoes,  they  tyrannised  over 
the   poor  ignorant   Manx   people   and  fleeced   them 


LBCT.n]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  103 

unmercifully.      Perhaps    this    was    in    a   way  only 
natural.      Corruption    was    in    the    air    throughout 
Europe.    Dr.  Youngs  were  grovelling  for  preferments 
at  the  feet   of  kings'   mistresses,  and   Dr.  Warners 
were   kissing  the    shoebuckles   of  great    ladies    for 
sheer  love  of  their  faces,  plastered  red  and  white. 
The    parasites    of   the   Manx   clergy   were   not   far 
behind  some  of  their  English  brethren.      There  is  a 
story  told  of  their  life  among  themselves  which  casts 
lurid    light    on    their    character  and    ways   of  life. 
It  is  said  that  two  of  the  Vicars-general  summoned 
a  large   number  of  the    Manx   people   to    Bishop's 
Court    on    some    business    of   the    spiritual    court. 
Many    of    the    people    had    come    long    distances, 
chiefly  a-foot,  without  food,   and  probably  without 
money.      After     a     short    sitting     the     court     was 
adjourned  for  dinner.      The  people  had  no  dinner, 
and  they  starved.      The  Vicars-general   went    into 
the  palace  to  dine  with   the  Bishop.      Some  hours 
passed.       The     night     was     gathering.       Then     a 
message  came  out   to  say  that   no   more    business 
could   be  done  that  day.      Some  of  the  poor  people 
were  old,  and  had  to  travel  fifteen   miles  to  their 
homes.      The  record  tells  us  that  the  Bishop  gave 
his    guests    "  most    excellent    wine."      What  of   a 


104  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lect.  ii 

scene  like  that  ?  Outside,  a  sharp  day  in  Spring, 
two  score  famished  folks  tramping  the  glen  and  the 
gravel-path,  the  gravel-path  and  the  glen,  to  and 
fro,  to  and  fro,  minute  after  minute,  hour  after 
hour.  Insfde,  my  lord  Bishop,  drenched  in  debt, 
dining  with  his  clergy,  drinking  "  most  excellent 
wine  "  with  them,  unbending  his  mighty  mind  with 
them,  exchanging  boisterous  stories  with  them, 
jesting  with  them,  laughing  with  them,  until  his 
face  grows  as  red  as  the  glowing  turf  on  his  hearth. 
Presently  a  footfall  on  the  gravel,  and  outside  the 
window  a  hungr}',  pinched,  anxious  face  looking 
nervously  into  the  room.      Then  this  colloquy  : 

"  Ah,  the  court,  plague  on't,  I'd  forgotten  it." 

"  Adjourn  it,  gentlemen." 

"  Wine  like  yours,  my  lord,  would  make  a  man 
forget  Paradise." 

"  Sit  down  again,  gentlemen.  Juan,  go  out  and 
tell  the  people  to  come  back  to-morrow." 

"  Your  right  good  health,  my  lord  !  " 

"  And  yours,  gentlemen  both  !  " 

Oh,  if  there  is  any  truth  in  religion,  if  this  world 
is  God's,  if  a  day  is  coming  when  the  weak  shall 
be  exalted  and  the  mighty  laid  low,  what  a  reckon- 
ing they  have  gone  to  whose  people  cried  for  bread 


lect.  n]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  105 

and  they  gave  them  a  stone  !  And  if  there  is  not, 
if  the  hope  is  vain,  if  it  is  all  a  sham  and  a 
mockery,  still  the  justice  of  this  world  is  sure. 
Where  are  they  now,  these  parasites  ?  Their 
game  is  played  out.  They  are  bones  and  ashes  ; 
they  are  in  their  forgotten  graves. 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  MANX  PEOPLE 

The    Manx    Language 

A  friend  asked  me  the  other  day  if  there  was  any 
reason  why  I  should  not  deliver  these  lectures  in 
Manx.  I  answered  that  there  were  just  forty  good 
and  sufficient  reasons.  The  first  was  that  I  did 
not  speak  Manx.  Like  the  wise  queen  in  the  story 
of  the  bells,  he  then  spared  me  the  recital  of  the 
remaining  nine-and-thirty.  But  there  is  at  least 
one  of  the  number  that  will  appeal  strongly  to  most 
of  my  hearers.  What  that  is  you  shall  judge  for 
yourselves  after  I  have  braved  the  pitfalls  of  pronun- 
ciation in  a  tongue  I  do  not  know,  and  given  you 
some  clauses  of  the  Lord's  Prayer  in  Manx. 

Ayr  ain  t'ayns  niau. 

(Father  our  who  art  in  heaven.) 

Caskerick  dy  row  dty  ennyvi. 
(Holy  be  Thy  name.) 


lect.  in]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION.  107 

Dy  jig  dty  reeriagh'. 
(Come  Thy  kingdom.) 

Dty  aigney  dy  rowjeant  er y  thalloo  mry  fc  ayns  iiiait. 
(Thy  will  be  done  on  the  earlh  even  as  in  heaven.) 

*  *  *  *  *  *  « 

Son  dy  i/ag/i,  as  dy  bragh,  Amen. 
(For  ever  and  ever.  Amen.) 

I  asked  a  friend — it  was  Mr.  Wilson  Barrett 
— if  in  its  fulness,  its  fine  chest-notes,  its  force 
and  music,  this  old  language  did  not  sound  like 
Italian. 

"  Well,  no,"  he  answered,  "  it  sounds  more  like 
hard  swearing." 

I  think  you  must  now  understand  why  the 
greater  part  of  these  lectures  should  be  delivered  in 
English. 

Manx  is  a  dialect  mainly  Celtic,  and  differing 
only  slightly  from  the  ancient  Scottish  Gaelic.  I 
have  heard  my  father  say  that  when  he  was  a  boy 
in  Ramsey,  sixty  years  ago,  a  Scotch  ship  came 
ashore  on  the  Carrick,  and  next  morning  after  the 
wreck  a  long,  lank,  bony  creature,  with  bare  legs, 
and  in  short  petticoats,  came  into  the  market- 
place and  played  a  tune  on  a  little  shrieking  pair  of 
smithy  bellows,  and  then  sang  a  song.      It  was  a 


lo8  THE   LITTLE   MANX   NATION  [lict.  hi 

Highland  piper,  and  he  sang  in  his  Gaelic,  but  the 
Manx  boys  and  girls  who  gathered  round  liim 
understood  almost  every  word  of  his  song,  though 
they  thought  his  pronunciation  bad.  Perhaps  they 
took  him  for  a  poor  old  Manxman,  somehow 
strayed  and  lost,  a  sort  of  Manx  Rip  Van  Winkle 
who  had  slept  a  century  in  Scotland,  and  thereby 
lost  part  of  his  clothes. 

You  will  wonder  that  there  is  not  more  Norse  in 
our  language,  remembering  how  much  of  the  Norse 
is  in  our  blood.  But  the  predominance  of  the 
Celtic  is  quite  natural.  Our  mothers  were  Celts, 
speaking  Celtic,  before  our  Norse  fathers  came. 
Was  it  likely  that  our  Celtic  mothers  should  learn 
much  of  the  tongue  of  their  Norse  husbands  ? 
Then,  is  it  not  our  mother,  rather  than  our  father, 
who  teaches  us  to  speak  when  we  are  children  ? 
So  our  Celtic  mothers  taught  us  Celtic,  and  thus 
Celtic  became  the  dominant  language  of  our  race. 

Manx  Names 

But  though  our  Norse  fathers  could  not  impose 
their  Norse  tongue  on  their  children,  they  gave  them 
Norse  names,   and  to  the   island   they  gave   Norse 


lect.  in]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  109 

place-names. .  Hence  we  find  that  though  Manx 
names  show  a  preponderance  of  the  Celtic,  yet  that 
the  Norse  are  numerous  and  important.  Thus 
we  have  many  daks,  fells, garths,  and  ghylls.  Indeed, 
we  have  many  pure  Scandinavian  surnames  and 
place-names.  When  I  was  in  Iceland  I  sometimes 
found  myself  face  to  face  with  names  which  almost 
persuaded  me  that  I  was  at  home  in  our  little 
island  of  the  Irish  Sea.  There  is,  for  example,  a 
Snaefell  in  Man  as  well  as  in  Iceland.  Then,  our 
Norwegian  surnames  often  took  Celtic  prefixes,  such 
as  Mac,  and  thus  became  Scandio-Gaelic.  But 
this  is  a  subject  on  which  I  have  no  right  to  speak 
with  authority.  You  will  find  it  written  down 
with  learning  and  judgment  in  the  good  book  of 
my  friend  Mr.  A.  W.  Moore,  of  Cronkbourne.  What 
concerns  me  more  than  the  scientific  aspect  of  the 
language  is  its  literary  character.  I  seem  to  realise 
that  it  was  the  language  of  a  poetic  race.  The 
early  generations  of  a  people  are  often  poetic. 
They  are  child-like,  and  to  be  like  a  child  is  the 
best  half  of  being  like  a  poet.  They  name  their 
places  by  help  of  their  observatory  powers.  These 
are  fresh  and  full  of  wonder,  and  Nature  herself  is 
beautiful   or    strange   until  man  tampers  with  her. 


no  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lkct.  in 

So  when  an  untaught  and  uncorrupted  mind  looks 
upon  a  new  scene  and  bethinks  itself  of  a  name  to 
lit  it,  the  name  is  almost  certainly  full  of  charm  or 
rugged  power.  Thus  we  find  in  Man  such  mixed 
Norse  and  Celtic  names  as  :  Booildooholly  (Black 
fold  of  the  wood),  Douglas  (Black  stream),  Sodc- 
rick  (South  creek),  Trollaby  (Troll's  farm),  Gansy 
(Magic  isle),  Cronk-y-Clagh  Bane  (Hill  of  the  white 
stone),  Cronk-ny-hey  (Hill  of  the  grave),  Cronk-ny- 
arrey-lhaa  (Hill  of  the  day  watch). 

Manx  Imagination 

This  poetic  character  of  the  place-names  of  the 
island  is  a  standing  reproach  to  us  as  a  race.  We 
have  degenerated  in  poetic  spirit  since  such  names 
were  the  natural  expression  of  our  feelings.  I 
tremble  to  think  what  our  place-names  would  be  if 
we  had  to  make  them  now.  Our  few  modern 
christenings  set  my  teeth  on  edge.  We  are  not  a 
race  of  poets.  We  are  the  prosiest  of  the  prosy.  I 
have  never  in  my  life  met  with  any  race,  except 
Icelanders  and  Norwegians,  who  are  so  completely 
the  slave  of  hard  fact.  It  is  astounding  how 
difficult     the    average    Manxman    finds    it    to    put 


lect.  in]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  III 

himself  into  the  mood  of  the  poet.      1'hat  anything 
could    come   out    of  nothing,  that   there   is   such  a 
thing  as  imagination,  that  any  human  brother  of  an 
honest  man  could  say  that  a  thing  had  been,  which 
had  not  been,  and  yet  not  lie — these  are  bewilder- 
ing difficulties  to  the  modern   Manxman.      That   a 
novel  can  be  false  and  yet  true — that,  well  that's 
foolishness.      I  wrote  a  Manx  romance  called  "  The 
Deemster  ;  "  and  I  did  not  expect  my  fellow-country- 
men of  the  primitive  kind  to  tolerate  it  for  a  moment. 
It  was  merely  a  fiction,  and  the  true  Manxman  of  the 
old   sort   only  believes  in  what  is  true.      He  does 
not  read  very  much,  and   when   he  does  read   it  is 
not  novels.      But   he  could  not  keep  his  hands  off 
this  novel,  and  on  the  whole,  and   in  the  long  run, 
he  liked   it — that  is,  as  he  would  say,  "  middling," 
you  know !      But  there  was  only  one  condition  on 
which  he  could  take   it  to   his  bosom — it   must  be 
true.      There  was  the  rub,  for  clearly  it  transgressed 
certain  poor  little  facts   that   were  patent  to  every- 
body.     Never  mind,  Hall  Caine  did  not  know  poor 
Man,  or  somebody  had  told   him  wrong.      But  the 
story  itself!      The  Bishop,  Dan,  Ewan,  Mona,  the 
body  coming  ashore  at  the  Mooragh,  the  poor  boy 
under  the  curse  by  the  Calf,  lord-a-massy,  that  was 


112  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [i.ect.  in 

thrue  as  gospel !  What  do  you  think  happened? 
I  have  got  the  letters  by  me,  and  can  show  them  to 
anybody.  A  good  Manxman  wrote  to  remonstrate 
with  me  for  calling  the  book  a  "romance."  How 
dare  I  do  so  ?  It  was  all  true.  Another  wrote 
saying  that  maybe  I  would  like  to  know  that  in  his 
youth  he  knew  my  poor  hero,  Dan  Mylrea,  well. 
They  often  drank  together.  In  fact,  they  were  the 
same  as  brothers.  For  his  part  he  had  often 
warned  poor  Dan  the  way  he  was  going.  After 
the  murder,  Dan  came  to  him  and  gave  him  the 
knife  with  which  he  had  killed  Ewan.  He  had  got 
it  still ! 

Later  than  the  "  Deemster,"  I  published  another 
Manx  romance,  "The  Bondman."  In  that  book  I 
mentioned,  without  thought  of  mischief,  certain 
names  that  must  have  been  lying  at  the  back  of  my 
head  since  my  boyhood.  One  of  them  becomes  in 
the  book  the  name  of  an  old  hypocrite  who  in  the 
end  cheats  everybody  and  yet  prays  loudly  in 
public.  Now  it  seems  that  there  is  a  man  up  in 
the  mountains  who  owns  that  name.  When  he  first 
encountered  it  in  the  newspapers,  where  the  story 
was  being  published  as  a  serial,  he  went  about 
saying  he  was  in  the  "  Bondman,"  that  it  was  all 


lect.  m]  THE  LITTLE   MANX  NATION  113 

thrue  as  gospel,  so  it  was,  that  he  knew  me 
when  I  was  a  boy,  over  Ramsey  way,  and  used  to 
give  me  rides  on  his  donkey,  so  he  did.  This  was 
before  the  hypocrite  was  unmasked  ;  and  when  that 
catastrophe  occurred,  and  his  villany  stood  naked 
before  all  the  island,  his  anger  knew  no  limits.  I 
am  told  that  he  goes  about  the  mountains  now  like  a 
thunder-cloud,  and  that  he  wants  to  meet  me.  I 
had  never  heard  of  the  man  before  in  all  my 
life. 

What  I  say  is  true  omy  of  the  typical  Manxman, 
the  natural-man  among  Manxmen,  not  of  the  Manx- 
man who  is  Manxman  plus  man  of  the  world,  the 
educated  Manxman,  who  finds  it  as  easy  as  any- 
body else  to  put  himself  into  a  position  of  sympathy 
with  works  of  pure  imagination.  But  you  must  go 
down  to  the  turf  if  you  want  the  true  smell  of  the 
earth.  Education  levels  all  human  types,  as  love  is 
said  to  level  all  ranks  ;  and  to  preserve  your  individu- 
ality and  yet  be  educated  seems  to  want  a  strain 
of  genius,  or  else  a  touch  of  madness. 

The  Manx  must  have  been  the  language  of  a 
people  with  few  thoughts  to  express,  but  such 
thoughts  as  they  had  were  beautiful  in  their 
simplicity  and  charm,  sometimes,  wise  and  shrewd, 

H 


114  THE   LITTLE   MANX   NATION  [i.ect.  hi 

and  not  rarely  full  of  feeling.  Thus  laa-noo  is  old 
Manx  for  child,  and  it  means  literally  half  saint — 
a  sweet  conception,  which  says  the  best  of  all  that 
is  contained  in  Wordsworth's  wondrous  "  Ode  on 
the  Intimations  of  Immortality."  Laa-bcc  is  old 
Manx  for  bed,  literally  half-meat,  a  profound  com- 
mentary on  the  value  of  rest.  The  old  salutation 
at  the  door  of  a  Manx  cottage  before  the  visitor 
entered  was  this  word  spoken  from  the  porch  :  I'd 
peccaghs  thie?  Literally:  Any  sinner  within? 
All  humanity  being  sinners  in  the  common  speech 
of  the  Manx  people. 

Manx  Proverbs 

Nearly  akin  to  the  language  of  a  race  are  its 
proverbs,  and  some  of  the  Manx  proverbs  are  wise, 
witty,  and  racy  of  the  soil.  Many  of  them  are  the 
common  possession  of  all  peoples.  Of  such  kind 
is  "  There's  man}'  a  slip  'twixt  the  cup  and  the 
lip."  Here  is  one  which  sounds  like  an  Eastern 
saying  :  "  Learning  is  fine  clothes  for  the  rich  man, 
and  riches  for  the  poor  man."  But  1  know  of  no 
foreign  parentage  for  a  proverb  like  this  :  "  A  green 
hill  when   far   away  ;   bare,  bare   when    it   is   near." 


lect.  m]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  115 

That  may  be  Eastern  also.  It  hints  of  a  long- 
weary  desert  ;  no  grass,  no  water,  and  then  the 
cruel  mirage  that  breaks  down  the  heart  of  the 
wayfarer  at  last.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  not  out 
of  harmony  with  the  landscape  of  Man,  where  the 
mountains  look  green  sometimes  from  a  distance 
when  they  are  really  bare  and  stark,  and  so  typify 
that  waste  of  heart  when  life  is  dry  of  the  moisture 
of  hope,  and  all  the  world  is  as  a  parched  wilder- 
ness. However,  there  is  one  proverb  which  is  so 
Manx  in  spirit  that  I  could  almost  take  oath  on  its 
paternity,  so  exactly  does  it  fit  the  religious  temper 
of  our  people,  though  it  contains  a  word  that  must 
strike  an  English  ear  as  irreverent :  "  When  one 
poor  man  helps  another  poor  man,  God  himself 
laughs." 

Manx  Ballads 

Next  to  the  proverbs  of  a  race  its  songs  are  the 
best  expression  of  its  spirit,  and  though  Manx  songs 
are  few,  some  ot .  them  are  full  of  Manx  character. 
Always  their  best  part  is  the  air.  A  man  called 
Barrow  compiled  the  Manx  tunes  about  the  begin- 
ning  of  the  century,  but   his   book  is   scarce.      In 


u6  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lect.iii 

my  ignorance  of  musical  science  I  can  only  tell 
you  how  the  little  that  is  left  of  Manx  music  lives 
in  the  ear  of  a  man  who  does  not  know  one  note 
from  another.  Much  of  it  is  like  a  wail  of  the 
wind  in  a  lonely  place  near  to  the  sea,  sometimes 
like  the  soughing  of  the  long  grass,  sometimes  like 
the  rain  whipping  the  panes  of  a  window  as  with 
rods.  Nearly  always  long-drawn  like  a  moan 
rarely  various,  never  martial,  never  inspiriting, 
often  sad  and  plaintive,  as  of  a  people  kept  under, 
but  loving  liberty,  poor  and  low  down,  but  with 
souls  alive,  looking  for  something,  and  hoping  on, — 
full  of  the  brine,  the  salt  foam,  the  sad  story  of  the 
sea.  Nothing  would  give  you  a  more  vivid  sense 
of  the  Manx  people  than  some  of  our  old  airs. 
They  would  seem  to  take  you  into  a  little  white- 
washed cottage  with  sooty  rafters  and  earthen 
floor,  where  an  old  man  who  looks  half  like  a 
sailor  and  half  like  a  landsman  is  dozing  before  a 
peat  fire  that  is  slumbering  out.  Have  I  in  my 
musical  benightedness  conveyed  an  idea  of  anything 
musical  ?  If  not,  let  me,  by  the  only  vehicle 
natural  to  me,  give  you  the  rough-shod  words  of 
one  or  two  of  our  old  ballads.  There  is  a  ballad, 
much  in  favour,  called  Ny  kirree  fo  niaghtey,  tnc 


lect.  in]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  117 

Sheep  under  the  Snow.  Another,  yet  better  known, 
is  called  Myle  diamine.  This  has  sometimes  been 
called  the  Manx  National  Air,  but  that  is  a  fiction. 
The  song  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  Manx  as  a 
nation.  Perhaps  it  is  merely  a  story  of  a  miser 
and  his  daughter's  dowry.  Or  perhaps  it  tells  of 
pillage,  probably  of  wrecking,  basely  done,  and  of 
how  the  people  cut  the  guilty  one  off  from  all  inter- 
course with  them. 

O,  Myle  Charaine,  where  got  you  your  gold  ? 

Lone,  lone,  you  have  left  me  here. 
O,  not  in  the  curragh,  deep  under  the  mould, 

Lone,  lone,  and  void  of  cheer. 

This  sounds  poor  enough,  but  it  would  be  hard 
to  say  how  deeply  this  ballad,  wedded  to  its  wailing 
music,  touches  and  moves  a  Manxman.  Even  to  my 
ear  as  I  have  heard  it  in  Manx,  it  has  seemed  to  be 
one  of  the  weirdest  things  in  old  ballad  literature, 
only  to  be  matched  by  some  of  the  old  Irish  songs, 
and  by  the  gruesome  ditty  which  tells  how  "  the 
sun  shines  fair  on  Carlisle  wa'." 


nS  THE   LITTLE    MANX  NATION  [i.ect.  hi 


Manx  Carols 

The  paraphrase   I  have  given  you  was  done  by- 
George  Borrow,  who   once  visited   the   island.      My 
friend  the  Rev.  T.  E.  Brown  met   him   and   showed 
him    several   collections    of    Manx    carols,    and    he 
pronounced  them  all  translations  from  the  English, 
not  excepting  our  famous  Drogh    Vraane,  or  carol 
of    every  bad  woman   whose  story    is  told   in  the 
Bible,    beginning    with    the   story   of    mother    Eve 
herself.     And,  indeed,  you  will  not  be  surprised  that 
to  the  shores  of  our  little   island   have  drifted   all 
kinds  of  miscellaneous  rubbish,  and  that  the  Manx- 
men,  from  their  very   simplicity  and   ignorance  of 
other  literatures,  have  had   no  means   of  sifting  the 
flotsam   and   assigning    value    to   the    constituents. 
Besides   this,   they   are    so    irresponsible,    have    no 
literary  conscience,    and   accordingly    have    appro- 
priated anything  and   everything.      This   is  true  of 
some  Manx  ballads,  and  perhaps  also  of  many  Manx 
carols.      The  carols,  called  Carvals   in   Manx,  serve 
in  Man,  as  in   other  countries,  the  purpose  of  cele- 
brating the  birth  of  Jesus,  but  we  have  one  ancient 
custom   attached    to  them    which   we   can   certainly 


lect.  in]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  119 

claim  for  our  own,  so  Manx  is  it,  so  quaint,  so 
grimly  serious,  and  withal   so   howlingly  ludicrous. 

It  is  called  the  service  of  Oiel  Verree,  probably  a 
corruption  of  Feaill  Vorrey,  literally  the  Feast  of 
Mary,  and  it  is  held  in  the  parish  church  near 
to  midnight  on  Christmas  Eve.  Scott  describes  it 
in  "  Peveril  of  the  Peak,"  but  without  personal 
knowledge. 

Services  are  still  held  in  many  churches  on 
Christmas  Eve  ;  and  I  think  they  are  called  Oiel 
Verree,  but  the  true  Oiel  Verree,  the  real,  pure, 
savage,  ridiculous,  sacrilegious  old  Oiel  Verree,  is 
gone.  I  myself  just  came  in  time  for  it  ;  I  saw  the 
last  of  it,  nevertheless  I  saw  it  at  its  prime,  for 
I  saw  it  when  it  was  so  strong  that  it  could  not 
live  any  longer.      Let  me  tell  you  what  it  was. 

The  story  carries  me  back  to  early  boyish  years, 
when,  from  the  lonely  school-house  on  the  bleak 
top  of  Maughold  Head,  I  was  taken  in  secret,  one 
Christmas  Eve,  between  nine  and  ten  o'clock,  to  the 
old  church  of  Kirk  Maughold,  a  parish  which  longer 
than  any  other  upheld  the  rougher  traditions.  My 
companion  was  what  is  called  an  original.  His 
name  was  Billy  Corkill.  We  were  great  chums. 
I  would   be   thirteen,    he    was    about    sixty.      Billy 


120  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lect.  m 

lived  alone  in  a  little  cottage  on  the  high-road,  and 
worked  in  the  fields.  He  had  only  one  coat  all  the 
years  I  knew  him.  It  seemed  to  have  been  blue 
to  begin  with,  but  when  it  had  got  torn  Billy  had 
patched  it  with  anything  that  was  handy,  from  green 
cloth  to  red  flannel.  He  called  it  his  Joseph's  coat 
of  many  colours.  Billy  was  a  poet  and  a  musical 
composer.  He  could  not  read  a  word,  but  he 
would  rather  have  died  than  confess  his  ignorance. 
He  kept  books  and  newspapers  always  about  him, 
and  when  he  read  out  of  them,  he  usually  held 
them  upside  down.  If  any  one  remarked  on  that, 
he  said  he  could  read  them  any  way  up — that  was 
where  his  scholarship  came  in.  Billy  was  a  great 
carol  singer.  He  did  not  know  a  note,  but  he 
never  sang  except  from  music.  His  tunes  were 
wild  harmonies  that  no  human  ear  ever  heard 
before.  It  will  be  clear  to  you  that  old  Billy  was  a 
man  of  genius. 

Such  was  my  comrade  on  that  Christmas  Eve 
long  ago.  It  had  been  a  bitter  winter  in  the  Isle 
of  Man,  and  the  ground  was  covered  with  snow- 
But  the  church  bells  rang  merrily  over  the  dark 
moorland,  for  Oiel  Verree  was  peculiarly  the 
people's  service,  and  the  ringers  were  ringing  in  the 


lect.  in]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  121 

one  service  of  the  year  at  which   the  parishioners 
supplanted    the    Vicar,    and   appropriated    the    old 
parish  church.      In  spite  of  the  weather,  the  church 
was  crowded  with  a  motley  throng,  chiefly  of  young 
folks,   the  young  men   being  in  the   nave,  and  the 
girls  (if  I   remember  rightly)  in  the  little  loft  at  the 
west    end.      Most  of  the  men   carried  tallow  dips, 
tied    about   with   bits    of    ribbon    in    the    shape    of 
rosettes,  duly  lighted,  and  guttering  grease  at  inter- 
vals   on    to  the  book-ledge    or   the    tawny    fingers 
of  them  that   held   them.      It   appeared    that   there 
had   been   an    ordinary   service   before    we   arrived, 
and  the  Vicar  was  still  within  the  rails  of  the   com- 
munion.     From  there  he    addressed   some    parting 
words  of  solemn  warning  to  the    noisy    throng  of 
candle-carriers.      As  nearly  as  I  can  remember,  the 
address    was    this :    "  My    good    people,    you    are 
about  to  celebrate  an  old   custom.      For  my  part,  I 
have  no  sympathy  with  such  customs,  but  since  the 
hearts  of  my  parishioners  seem   to  be  set  on  this 
one,  I  have  no  wish  to  suppress  it.    But  tumultuous 
and    disgraceful    scenes    have   occurred    on    similar 
occasions    in    previous   years,    and    I    beg  you    to 
remember     that    you    are    in    God's     house,"    &c. 
&c.     The  grave  injunction  was  listened  to  in  silence, 


122  THE  LITTLE   MANX   NATION  [lect.  ii 

and  when  it  ended,  the  Vicar,  a  worthy  but  not 
very  popular  man,  walked  towards  the  vestry.  To 
do  so,  he  passed  the  pew  where  I  sat  under  the  left 
arm  of  my  companion,  and  he  stopped  before  him, 
for  Billy  had  long  been  a  notorious  transgressor  at 
Oiel  Verree. 

"See  that  you  do  not  disgrace  my  church  to-night," 
said  the  Vicar.      But  Billy  had  a  biting  tongue. 

"Aw,  well,"  said  he,  "I'm  thinking  the  church 
is  the  people's." 

"  The  people  are  as  ignorant  as  goats,"  said  the 
Vicar. 

"  Aw,  then,"  said  Billy,  "  you  are  the  shepherd, 
so  just  make  sheeps  of  them." 

At  that  the  Vicar  gave  us  the  light  of  his  coun- 
tenance no  more.  The  last  glimpse  of  his  robe 
going  through  the  vestry  door  was  the  signal  for  a 
buzz  of  low  gossip,  and  straightway  the  business  of 
Oiel  Verree  began. 

It  must  have  been  now  approaching  eleven 
o'clock,  and  two  old  greybeards  with  tousled  heads 
placed  themselves  abreast  at  the  door  of  the  west 
porch.  There  they  struck  up  a  carol  in  a  some- 
what lofty  key.  It  was  a  most  doleful  ditty. 
Certainly  I  have  never  since  heard  the  like  of  it.  I 
remember  that  it  told  the  story  of  the  Crucifixion  in 


lect.  in]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  123 

startling  language,  full  of  realism  that  must  have 
been  horribly  ghastly,  if  it  had  not  been  so 
comic.  At  the  end  of  each  verse  the  singers  made 
one  stride  towards  the  communion.  There  were 
some  thirty  verses,  and  every  mortal  verse  did 
these  zealous  carollers  give  us.  They  came  to  an 
end  at  length,  and  then  another  old  fellow  rose  in 
his  pew  and  sang  a  ditty  in  Manx.  It  told  of  the 
loss  of  the  herring-fleet  in  Douglas  Bay  in  the  last 
century.  After  that  there  was  yet  another  and 
another  carol — some  that  might  be  called  sacred, 
others  that  would  not  be  badly  wronged  with  the 
name  of  profane.  As  I  recall  them  now,  they  were 
full  of  a  burning  earnestness,  and  pictured  the 
dangers  of  the  sinner  and  the  punishment  of  the 
damned.  They  said  nothing  about  the  joys  of 
heaven,  or  the  pleasures  of  life.  Wherever  these 
old  songs  came  from  they  must  have  dated  from 
some  period  of  religious  revival.  The  Manxman 
may  have  appropriated  them,  but  if  he  did  so  he 
was  in  a  deadly  earnest  mood.  It  must  have  been 
like  stealing  a  hat-band. 

My  comrade  had  been  silent  all  this  time,  but  in 
response  to  various  winks,  nods,  and  nudges,  he 
rose  to  his  feet.  Now,  in  prospect  of  Oiel  Verree  I 
had   written   the   old   man   a   brand   new   carol.      It 


124  THE   LITTLE   MANX   NATION  [lect.  in 

was  a  mighty  achievement  in   the  sentimental   vein. 
I  can  remember  only  one  of  its  couplets  : 

Hold  your  souls  in  still  communion, 
Blend  them  in  a  holy  union. 

I  am  not  very  sure  what  this  may  mean,  and 
Billy  must  have  been  in  the  same  uncertainty. 
Shall  I  ever  forget  what  happened  ?  Billy  standing 
in  the  pew  with  my  paper  in  his  hand  the  wrong 
way  up.  Myself  by  his  side  holding  a  candle  to 
him.  Then  he  began  to  sing.  It  was  an  awful 
tune — I  think  he  called  it  sevens — but  he  made 
common-sense  of  my  doggerel  by  one  alarming 
emendation.  When  he  came  to  the  couplet  I  have 
given  you,  what  do  you  think  he  sang  ? 

"Hold  your  souls  in  still  communion, 
Blend  them  in — a  hollow  onion  !  " 

Billy  must  have  been  a  humorist.  lie  is  long 
dead,  poor  old  Billy.      God  rest  him  ! 


Decay  of  the   Manx  Language 

If  in  this  unscientific  way   I   have   conveyed   my 
idea  of  Manx  carvals,  Manx  ballads,  or  Manx  pro- 


lect.  in]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  125 

verbs,  you  will  not  be  surprised  to  hear  me  say  that 
I  do  not  think  that  any  of  these  can  live  long  apart 
from  the  Manx  language.  We  may  have  stolen  most 
of  them  ;  they  may  have  been  wrecked  on  our  coast, 
and  we  may  have  smuggled  them  ;  but  as  long  as 
they  wear  our  native  homespun  clothes  they  are 
ours,  and  as  soon  as  they  put  it  off  they  cease  to 
belong  to  us.  A  Manx  proverb  is  no  longer  a 
Manx  proverb  when  it  is  in  English.  The  same  is 
true  of  a  Manx  ballad  translated,  and  of  a  Manx 
carval  turned  into  an  English  carol.  What  belongs 
to  us,  our  way  of  saying  things,  in  a  word,  our 
style,  is  gone.  The  spirit  is  departed,  and  that 
which  remains  is  only  an  English  ghost  flitting 
about  in  Manx  grave-clothes. 

Now  this  is  a  sad  fact,  for  it  implies  that  little  as 
we  have  got  of  Manx  literature,  whether  written  or 
oral,  we  shall  soon  have  none  at  all.  Our  Manx 
language  is  fast  dying  out.  If  we  had  any  great 
work  in  the  Manx  tongue,  that  work  alone  would 
serve  to  give  our  language  a  literary  life  at  least. 
But  we  have  no  such  great  work,  no  fine  Manx 
poem,  no  good  novel  in  Manx,  not  even  a  Manx 
sermon  of  high  mark.  Thus  far  our  Manx  language 
has  kept  alive  our  pigmies  of  Manx  literature  ;   but 


126  THE   LITTLE  MANX   NATION  [lect.  m 

both  are  going  down  together.  The  Manx  is  not 
much  spoken  now.  In  the  remoter  villages,  like 
Cregnesh,  Ballaugh,  Kirk  Michael,  and  Kirk 
Andreas,  it  may  still  be  heard.  Moreover,  the 
Manxman  may  hear  Manx  a  hundred  times  for 
every  time  an  Englishman  hears  it.  But  the 
younger  generation  of  Manx  folk  do  not  speak 
Manx,  and  very  often  do  not  understand  it.  This 
is  a  rapid  change  on  the  condition  of  things  in  my 
own  boyhood.  Manx  is  to  me,  for  all  practical 
uses,  an  unknown  tongue.  I  cannot  speak  it,  I 
cannot  follow  it  when  spoken,  I  have  only  a  sort  of 
nodding  acquaintance  with  it  out  of  door,  and  yet 
among  my  earliest  recollections  is  that  of  a  house- 
hold where  nothing  but  Manx  was  ever  spoken 
except  to  me.  A  very  old  woman,  almost  bent 
double  over  a  spinning  wheel,  and  calling  me 
Mommy- Veg,  and  baitgli-millish,  and  so  forth.  This 
will  suggest  that  the  Manx  people  are  themselves 
responsible  for  the  death  of  the  Manx  language. 
That  is  partly  true.  The  Manx  tongue  was  felt  to 
be  an  impediment  to  intercourse  with  the  English 
people.  Then  the  great  English  immigration  set  in, 
and  the  Isle  of  Man  became  a  holiday  resort.  That 
was    the    doomster    of   the    Manx    language.       In 


lect.  in]  THE  LITTLE  MANX   NATION  127 

another  five-and-twenty  years   the   Manx   language 
will  be  as  dead  as  a  Manx  herring. 

One  cannot  but  regret  this  certain  fate.  I  dare 
not  say  that  the  language  itself  is  so  good  that  it 
ought  to  live.  Those  who  know  it  better  say  that 
"  it's  a  fine  old  tongue,  rich  and  musical,  full  of 
meaning  and  expression."*  I  know  that  it  is  at 
least  forcible,  and  loud  and  deep  in  sound.  I  will 
engage  two  Manxmen  quarrelling  in  Manx  to  make 
more  noise  in  a  given  time  than  any  other  two 
human  brethren  in  Christendom,  not  excepting  two 
Irishmen.  Also  I  think  the  Manx  must  be  capable 
of  notes  of  sweet  feeling,  and  I  observe  that  a 
certain  higher  lilt  in  a  Manx  woman's  voice, 
suggesting  the  effort  to  speak  about  the  sound  of 
the  sea,  and  the  whistle  of  the  wind  in  the  gorse,  is 
lost  in  the  voices  of  the  younger  women  who  speak 
English  only.  But  apart  from  tangible  loss,  I 
regret  the  death  of  the  Manx  tongue  on  grounds  of 
sentiment.  In  this  old  tongue  our  fathers  played 
as  children,  bought  and  sold  as  men,  prayed, 
preached,  gossiped,  quarrelled,  and  made  love.  It 
was  their  language  at  Tynwald  ;  they  sang  their 
grim  carvals  in  it,  and  their  wailing,  woful  ballads. 
*  The  Rev.  T.  E.  Brown. 


128  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lrt.ui 

When  it  is  dead  more  than  half  of  all  that  makes 
us  Manxmen  will  be  gone.  Our  individuality  will 
be  lost,  the  greater  barrier  that  separates  us  from 
other  peoples  will  be  broken  down.  Perhaps  this 
may  have  its  advantages,  but  surely  it  is  not 
altogether  a  base  desire  not  to  be  submerged  into 
all  the  races  of  the  earth.  The  tower  of  Babel  is 
built,  the  tongues  of  the  builders  are  confounded, 
and  we  are  not  all  anxious  to  go  back  and  join  the 
happy  family  that  lived  in  one  ark. 

But  aside  from  all  lighter  thoughts  there  is 
something  very  moving  and  pathetic  in  the  death  of 
an  old  language.  Permit  me  to  tell  you,  not  as  a 
philologist,  a  character  to  which  I  have  no  claim, 
but  as  an  imaginative  writer,  how  the  death  of  an 
ancient  tongue  affects  me.  It  is  unlike  any  other 
form  of  death,  for  an  unwritten  language  is  even  as 
a  breath  of  air  which  when  it  is  spent  leaves  no 
trace  behind.  A  nation  may  die,  yet  its  history 
remains,  and  that  is  the  tangible  part  of  if-s  past. 
A  city  may  fall  to  decay  and  lie  a  thousand  years 
under  the  sands  of  the  desert,  yet  its  relics  revivify 
its  life.  But  a  language  that  is  dead,  a  tongue 
that  has  no  life  in  its  literature,  is  a  breath  of  wind 
that  is  gone.      A  little  while  and  it  went  from  lip  to 


lect.  in]  THE  LITTLE   MANX  NATION  129 

lip,  from  lip  to  ear  ;  it  came  we  know  not  whence  ; 
it  has  passed  we  know  not  where.  It  was  an 
embodied  spirit  of  all  man's  joys  and  sorrows,  and 
like  a  spirit  it  has  vanished  away. 

Then  if  this  old  language  has  been  that  of  our 
own  people  its  death  is  a  loss  to  our  affections. 
Indeed,  language  gets  so  close  to  our  heart  that  we 
can  hardly  separate  it  from  our  emotions.  If  you 
do  not  speak  the  Italian  language,  ask  youiself 
whether  Dante  comes  as  close  to  you  as  Shake- 
speare, all  questions  of  genius  and  temperament 
apart.  And  if  Dante  seems  a  thousand  miles 
away,  and  Shakespeare  enters  into  your  closest 
chamber,  is  it  not  first  of  all  because  the  language 
of  Shakespeare  is  your  own  language,  alive  with 
the  life  that  is  in  your  own  tongue,  vital  with  your 
own  ways  of  thought  and  even  tricks  and  whims  of 
speech  ?  Let  English  die,  and  Shakespeare  goes 
out  of  your  closet,  and  passes  away  from  you,  and  is 
then  your  brother-Englishman  only  in  name.  So  close 
is  the  bond  of  language,  so  sweet  and  so  mysterious. 

But  there  is  yet  a  more  sacred  bond  with  the 
language  of  our  fathers  when  it  can  have  no  pos- 
thumous life  in  books.  This  is  the  bond  of  love. 
Think  what   it  is  that  you   miss  first   and  longest 

1 


130  THE   LITTLE   MANX   NATION  [lect.  in 

when  death  robs  you  of  a  friend.  Is  it  not  the 
living  voice  ?  The  living  face  you  can  bring  back 
in  memory,  and  in  your  dark  hours  it  will  shine  on 
you  still  ;  the  good  deed  can  never  die  ;  the  noble 
thought  lives  for  ever.  Death  is  not  conqueror 
over  such  as  these,  but  the  human  voice,  the 
strange  and  beautiful  part  of  us  that  is  half  spirit 
in  life,  is  lost  in  death.  For  a  while  it  startles  us 
as  an  echo  in  an  empty  chamber,  and  then  it  is 
gone,  and  not  all  the  world's  wealth  could  bring 
one  note  of  it  back.  And  such  as  the  vanishing 
away  of  the  voice  of  the  friend  we  loved  is  the 
death  of  the  old  tongue  which  our  fathers  spoke. 
It  is  the  death  of  the  dead. 

Manx  Superstitions 

When  the  Manx  tongue  is  dead  there  will  remain, 
however,  just  one  badge  of  our  race — our  supersti- 
tion. I  am  proud  to  tell  you  that  we  are  the  most 
superstitious  people  now  left  among  the  civilised 
nations  of  the  world.  This  is  a  distinction  in  these 
days  when  that  poetry  of  life,  as  Goethe  names  it, 
is  all  but  gone  from  the  face  of  the  earth.  Manx- 
men have  not  yet  taken  the  poetry  out  of  the  moon 


lect.  m]  THE  LITTLE  MANX   NATION  131 

and  the  stars,  and  the  mist  of  the  mountains  and 
the  wail  of  the  sea.  Of  course  we  are  ashamed  of 
the  survival  of  our  old  beliefs  and  try  to  hide  them, 
but  let  nobody  say  that  as  a  people  we  believe  no 
longer  in  charms,  and  the  evil  eye,  and  good 
spirits  and  bad.  I  know  we  do.  It  would  be 
easy  to  give  you  a  hundred  illustrations.  I 
remember  an  ill-tempered  old  body  living  on  the 
Curragh,  who  was  supposed  to  possess  the  evil 
eye.  If  a  cow  died  at  calving,  she  had  witched  it. 
If  a  baby  cried  suddenly  in  its  sleep,  the  old  witch 
must  have  been  going  by  on  the  road.  If  the 
potatoes  were  blighted,  she  had  looked  over  the 
hedge  at  them.  There  was  a  charm  doctor  in 
Kirk  Andreas,  named  Teare-Ballawhane.  He  was 
before  my  time,  but  I  recall  many  stories  of  him. 
When  a  cow  was  sick  of  the  witching  of  the  woman 
of  the  Curragh,  the  farmer  fled  over  to  Kirk  Andreas 
for  the  charm  of  the  charm-doctor.  From  the 
moment  Teare-Ballawhane  began  to  boil  his  herbs 
the  cow  recovered.  If  the  cow  died  after  all,  there 
was  some  fault  in  the  farmer.  I  remember  a  child, 
a  girl,  who  twenty  years  ago  had  a  birth-mark  on 
her  face — a  broad  red  stain  like  a  hand  on  her 
cheek.      Not    long   since,    I    saw   her  as   a   young 


132  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lect.  hi 

woman,  and  the  stain  was  either  gone  entirely  or 
hidden  by  her  florid  complexion.  When  I  asked 
what  had  been  done  for  her,  I  heard  that  a  good 
woman  had  charmed  her.  "  Aw,  yes,"  said  the 
girl's  mother,  "  a  few  good  words  do  no  harm 
anyway."  Not  long  ago  I  met  an  old  fellow  in 
Onchan  village  who  believed  in  the  Nightman,  an 
evil  spirit  who  haunts  the  mountains  at  night 
predicting  tempests  and  the  doom  of  ships,  the 
dooinncy-oie  of  the  Manx,  akin  to  the  banshee  of  the 
Irish.  "  Aw,  man,"  said  he,  "  it  was  up  Snaefell 
way,  and  I  was  coming  from  Kirk  Michael  over, 
and  it  was  black  dark,  and  I  heard  the  Nightman 
after  me,  shoutin'  and  wailin'  morthal,  kozv-la-a, 
hoiv-a-a.  But  I  didn't  do  nothin',  no,  and  he 
came  up  to  me  lek  a  besom,  and  went  past  me 
same  as  a  flood,  who-o-o  !  And  I  lerr  him!  Aw, 
yes,  man,  yes  !  " 

I  remember  many  a  story  of  fairies,  some  recited 
half  in  humour,  others  in  grim  earnest.  One  old 
body  told  me  that  on  the  night  of  her  wedding-day, 
coming  home  from  the  Curragh,  whither  she  had 
stolen  away  in  pursuit  of  a  belated  calf,  she  was 
chased  in  the  moonlight  by  a  troop  of  fairies. 
They  held  on  to  her  gown,  and  climbed  on  her  back, 


lect.  in]  THE  LITTLE   MANX  NATION  133 

and  perched  on  her  shoulders,  and  clung  to  her 
hair.  There  were  "  hundreds  and  tons  "  of  them  ; 
the}'-  were  about  as  tall  as  a  wooden  broth-ladle, 
and  all  wore  cocked-hats  and  velvet  jackets. 

A  good  fairy  long  inhabited  the  Isle  of  Man. 
He  was  called  in  Manx  the  Phynnodderee.  It 
would  appear  that  he  had  two  brothers  of  like 
features  with  himself,  one  in  Scotland  called  the 
Brownie,  the  other  in  Scandinavia  called  the  Swart- 
alfar.  I  have  often  heard  how  on  a  bad  night 
the  Manx  folk  would  go  off  to  bed  early  so  thai 
the  Phynnodderee  might  come  in  out  of  the  cold. 
Before  going  upstairs  they  built  up  the  fire,  and  set 
the  kitchen  table  with  crocks  of  milk  and  pecks  of 
oaten  cake  for  the  entertainment  of  their  guest. 
Then  while  they  slept  the  Phynnodderee  feasted,  yet 
he  always  left  the  table  exactly  as  he  found  it,  eat- 
ing the  cake  and  drinking  the  milk,  but  filling  up  the 
peck  and  the  crock  afresh.  Nobody  ever  intruded 
upon  him,  so  nobody  ever  saw  him,  save  the  Manx 
Peeping  Tom.  I  remember  hearing  an  old  Manx- 
man say  that  his  curiosity  overcame  his  reverence, 
and  he  "  leff  the  wife,"  stepped  out  of  bed,  crept  to 
the  head  of  the  stairs,  and  peeped  over  the  banisters 
into  the  kitchen.      There  he  saw  the  Phynnodderee 


134  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lect.  hi 

sitting  in  his  own  arm-chair,  with  a  great  company 
of  brother  and  sister  fairies  about  him,  baking  bread 
on  the  griddle,  and  chattering  together  like  linnets 
in  spring.  But  he  could  not  understand  a  word 
they  were  saying. 

I  have  told  you  that  the  Manxman  is  not  built 
by  nature  for  a  gallant.  He  has  one  bad  fairy, 
and  she  is  the  embodied  spirit  of  a  beautiful 
woman.  Manx  folk-lore,  like  Manx  carvals,  Manx 
ballads,  and  Manx  proverbs,  takes  it  for  a  bad  sign 
of  a  woman's  character  that  she  has  personal 
beauty.  If  she  is  beautiful,  ten  to  one  she  is  a 
witch.  That  is  how  it  happens  that  there  are  so 
many  witches  in  the  Isle  of  Man. 

The  story  goes  that  a  beautiful  wicked  witch 
entrapped  the  men  of  the  island.  They  would 
follow  her  anywhere.  So  she  led  them  into  the 
sea,  and  they  were  all  drowned.  Then  the  women 
of  the  island  went  forth  to  punish  her,  and,  to 
escape  from  them,  she  took  the  form  of  a  wren  and 
flew  away.  That  is  how  it  comes  about  that  the 
poor  little  wren  is  hunted  and  killed  on  St. 
Stephen's  Day.  The  Manx  lads  do  it,  though 
surely  it  ought  to  be  the  Manx  maidens.  At 
midnight    they    sally    forth     in     great     companies, 


lect.  m]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  135 

armed  with  sticks  and  carrying  torches.  They 
beat  the  hedges  until  they  light  on  a  wren's  nest, 
and,  having  started  the  wren  and  slaughtered  it, 
they  suspend  the  tiny  mite  to  the  middle  of  a  long 
pole,  which  is  borne  by  two  lads  from  shoulder  to 
shoulder.  They  then  sing  a  rollicking  native  ditty, 
of  which  one  version  runs  : — 

We'll  hunt  the  wren,  says  Robbin  the  Bobbin; 
We'll  hunt  the  wren,  sa\s  Richard  the  Robbin  ; 
We'll  hunt  the  wren,  says  Jack  of  the  Lan' ; 
We'll  hunt  the  wren,  says  every  one. 

But  Robbin  the  Bobbin  and  Richard  the  Robbin 
are  not  the  only  creatures  who  have  disappeared 
into  the  sea.  The  fairies  themselves  have  also 
gone  there.  They  inhabit  Man  no  more.  A 
Wesleyan  preacher  declared  some  years  ago  that 
he  witnessed  the  departure  of  all  the  Manx  fairies 
from  the  Bay  of  Douglas.  They  went  away  in  empty 
rum  puncheons,  and  scudded  before  the  wind  as  far 
as  the  eye  could  reach,  in  the  direction  of  Jamaica. 
So  we  have  done  with  them,  .both  good  and  bad. 

However,  among  the  witches  whom  we  have  left 
to  us  in  remote  corners  of  the  island  is  the  very 
harmless  one  called  the  Queen  of  the  Mhcillia.  Her 
rural  Majesty  is  a  sort  of  first  cousin  of  the  Queen 


136  THE  LITTLE   MANX  NATION  [lect  hi 

of  the  May.  The  Mhcillia  is  the  harvest-home. 
It  is  a  picturesque  ceremonial,  observed  differently 
in  different  parts.  Women  and  girls  follow  the 
reapers  to  gather  and  bind  the  corn  after  it  has 
fallen  to  the  swish  of  the  sickles.  A  handful  of  the 
standing  corn  of  the  last  of  the  farmer's  fields  is 
tied  about  with  ribbon.  Nobody  but  the  farmer 
knows  where  that  handful  is,  and  the  girl  who 
comes  upon  it  by  chance  is  made  the  Queen  of  the 
Mheillia.  She  takes  it  to  the  highest  eminence 
near,  and  waves  it,  and  her  fellow-reapers  and 
gleaners  shout  huzzas.  Their  voices  are  heard 
through  the  valley,  where  other  farmers  and  other 
reapers  and  gleaners  stop  in  their  work  and  say, 
"  So-and-so's  Mheillia  !  "  "  Ballamona's  Mheillia's 
took  !  "  That  night  the  farmer  gives  a  feast  in  his 
barn  to  celebrate  the  getting  in  of  his  harvest,  and 
the  close  of  the  work  of  the  women  at  the  harvest- 
ing. Sheep's  heads  for  a  change  on  Manx 
herrings,  English  ale  for  a  change  on  Manx  jough  ; 
then  dancing  led  by  the  mistress,  to  the  tune  of  a 
fiddle,  played  faster  and  wilder  as  the  night 
advances,  reel  and  jig,  jig  and  reel.  This  pretty 
rural  festival  is  still  observed,  though  it  has  lost 
much  of  its  quaintness.      I  think  I  can  just  reracra- 


LECT.  in]  THE    LITTLE   MANX   KATION  i?7 

ber  to  have  heard  the  shouts  of  the   Mheillia  from 
the  breasts  of  the  mountains. 

You  will  have  gathered   that   in   no  part   of  the 
world    could   you    find    a    more    reckless    and    ill- 
conditioned  breeding-ground  of  suppositions,  legends, 
traditions,  and  superstitions  than  in  the  Isle  of  Man. 
The  custom  of  hunting  the  wren   is  widely  spread 
throughout  Ireland  ;  and  if  I   were  to   tell   you   of 
Manx    wedding     customs,    Manx     burial    customs, 
Manx    birth    customs,    May    day,    Lammas,    Good 
Friday,    New   Year,    and   Christmas    customs,   you 
would   recognise   in   the    Manxman   the   same   irre- 
sponsible tendency  to  appropriate  whatever  flotsam 
drifts   to   his   shore.      What    I    have   told   you   has 
come    mainly    of   my   own    observation,    but   for   a 
complete   picture    of   Manx   manners   and   customs, 
beliefs  and  superstitions,  I  will  refer  you  to  William 
Kennish's  "  Mona's  Isle,  and  other  Poems,"   a  rare 
book,  with  next  to  no  poetic  quality,  and  containing 
much  that  is  worthless,  but  having   a  good  body  of 
real    native  stuff  in   it,   such    as    cannot   be    found 
elsewhere.      A  still  better  anthology  is  likely  to  be 
soon  forthcoming  from  the  pen  of  Mr.  A.  W.  Moore 
(the  excellent   editor  of  "  Manx  Names  ")  and  the 
press  of  Mr.  Nutt. 


13S  THE  LITTLE   MANX  NATION  [lect.  m 

It  is  easy  to  laugh  at  these  old   superstitions,   so 

childish  do  they  seem,  so  foolish,  so  ignorant.     But 

shall   we  therefore    set    ourselves    so  much   above 

our  fathers  because  they  were  slaves  to  them,  and 

we   believe  them   not  ?      Bethink  you.      Are  we  so 

much  wiser,  after  all  ?     How  much  farther  have  we 

got  ?    We  know  the  mists  of  Mannanan.     They  are 

only  the  vapours   from  the    south,   creeping   along 

the   ridge  of  our  mountains,  going  north.      Is  that 

enough  to  know  ?      We  know  the   cold   eye  of  the 

evil  man,  whose  mere  presence  hurts   us,  and  the 

warm    eye    of    the    born    physician,    whose    mere 

presence  heals  us.      Does  that  tell  us  everything  ? 

We  hear  the  moans  which  the  sea  sends   up  to  the 

mountains,  when  storms  are  coming,  and  ships  are 

to  be  wrecked,  and  we  do  not  call  them  the  voices  of 

the  Nightman,  but  only  the  voices  of  the  wind.    We 

have  changed  the  name  ;  but  we  have  taken   none 

of  the  mystery  and  marvel   out   of  the  thing  itself. 

It  is  the  Wind  for  us  ;  it  was  the   Nightman   for 

our     fathers.      That     is     nearly     all.      The     wind 

bloweth   where  it   listeth.      We   are  as    far   off  as 

ever.      Our  superstitions  remain,  only  we  call  them 

Science,   and   try   not   to  be  afraid   of  them.      But 

we  arc  as  little  children  after  all,  and  the  best  of  us 


lect.  in]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  139 

are  those  that,  being  wisest,  see  plainest  that, 
before  the  wonders  and  terrors  of  the  great  world 
we  live  in,  we  are  children,  walking  hand-in-hand 
in  fear. 

Manx  Stories 

You  will  say  that  there  ought  to  be  many  good 
stories  of  a  people  like  the  Manx  ;  and  here  again  I 
have  to  confess  to  you  that  the  absence  of  all 
literary  conscience,  all  perception  of  keeping  and 
relation,  all  sense  of  harmony  and  congruity  in  the 
Manxman  has  so  demoralised  our  anecdotal  ana 
that  I  hesitate  to  offer  you  certain  of  the  best  of 
our  Manx  yarns  from  fear  that  they  may  be  vener- 
able English,  Irish,  and  Scotch  familiars.  I  will 
content  myself  with  a  few  that  bear  undoubted 
Manx  lineaments.  As  an  instance  of  Manx  hos- 
pitality, simple  and  rude,  but  real  and  hearty,  I 
think  you  would  go  the  world  over  to  match  this. 
The  late  Rev.  Hugh  Stowell  Brown,  a  Manxman, 
brother  of  the  most  famous  of  living  Manxmen, 
and  himself  our  North-country  Spurgeon,  with  his 
wife,  his  sister,  and  his  mother,  were  belated  one 
evening  up  Baldwin  Glen,  and  stopped  at  a  farm- 


140  THE   LITTLE  MANX   NATION  [lect.  hi 

house  to  inquire  their  way.  But  the  farmer  would 
not  hear  of  their  going-  a  step  further.  "  Aw,  non- 
sense !  "  he  said.  "  What's  the  use  of  talking 
man  ?  You'll  be  stoppin'  with  us  to-night.  Aw 
'deed  ye  will,  though.  The  women  can  get  along 
together  aisy,  and  you're  a  clane  lookiri  sort  o' 
chap ;  you'll  be  slccpiri  with  me." 

In  the  old  days  of,  say,  two  steamboats  a  week 
to  England  the  old  Manx  captains  of  the  Steamboat 
Company  were  notorious  soakers.  There  is  a 
story  of  one  of  them  who  had  the  Archdeacon  of 
the  island  aboard  in  a  storm.  It  was  night.  The 
reverend  Archdeacon  was  in  an  agony  of  pain  and 
terror.  He  inquired  anxiously  of  the  weather. 
The  captain,  very  drunk,  answered,  "  If  it  doesn't 
mend  we'll  all  be  in  heaven  before  morning,  Arch- 
deacon !  "  "  Oh,  God  forbid,  captain,"  cried  the 
Archdeacon. 

I  have  said  what  true  work  for  religion  Noncon- 
formity must  have  done  in  those  evil  days  when  the 
clergy  of  the  Athols  were  more  busy  with  back- 
gammon than  with  theology.  But  the  religion  of 
the  old  type  of  Manx  Methodist  was  often  an 
amusing  mixture  of  puritanism  and  its  opposite,  a 
sort   of  grim,  white-faced   sanctity,  that   was   never 


lect.  m]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  141 

altogether  free  of  the  suspicion  of  a  big  boisterous 
laugh  behind  it.  The  Methodist  local  preachers 
have  been  the  real  guardians  and  repositories  of  one 
side  of  the  Manx  genius,  a  curious,  hybrid  thing, 
deadly  earnest,  often  howlingly  ludicrous,  simple, 
generally  sincere,  here  and  there  audaciously  hypo- 
critical. Among  local  preachers  I  remember  some 
of  the  sweetest,  purest,  truest  men  that  ever 
walked  this  world  of  God  ;  but  I  also  remember  a 
man  who  was  brought  home  from  market  on 
Saturday  night,  dead  drunk,  across  the  bottom  of 
his  cart  drawn  by  his  faithful  horse,  and  I  saw  him 
in  the  pulpit  next  morning,  and  heard  his  sermon 
on  the  evils  of  backsliding.  There  is  a  story  of  the 
jealousy  of  two  local  preachers.  The  one  went  to 
hear  the  other  preach.  The  preacher  laid  out  his 
subject  under  a  great  many  heads,  firstly,  secondly, 
thirdly,  up  to  tenthly.  His  rival  down  below  in 
the  pew  spat  and  Jiaivd  and  tduit'd  a  good  deal, 
and  at  last,  quite  impatient  of  getting  no  solid  reli- 
gious food,  cried  aloud,  "  Give  us  mate,  man,  give 
us  mate  !  "  Whereupon  the  preacher  leaned  over 
the  pulpit  cushion,  and  said,  "  Hould  on,  man,  till 
I've  done  with  the  carving." 

But    to  tell  of    Happy  Dan,   and   his  wondrous 


142  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lect.  hi 

sermon  on  the  Prodigal  Son  at  the  Clover  Stones, 
Lonan,  and  his  discourse  on  the  swine  possessed  of 
devils  who  went  "  triddlc-traddle,  triddlc-traddle 
down  the  brews  and  were  clane  drownded  ;  "  and  of 
the  marvellous  account  of  how  King  David  remon- 
strated in  broadest  Manx  patois  with  the  "  pozzlc-tree  " 
for  being  blown  down  ;  and  then  of  the  grim 
earnestness  of  a  good  man  who  could  never  preach 
on  a  certain  text  without  getting  wet  through  to  the 
waistcoat  with  perspiration — to  open  the  flood-gates  of 
this  kind  of  Manx  story  would  be  to  liberate  a  reservoir 
that  would  hardly  know  an  end,  so  I  must  spare  you. 

Manx  "Characters" 

At  various  points  of  my  narrative  I  have  touched 
on  certain  of  our  eccentric  Manx  "  characters." 
But  perhaps  more  interesting  than  any  such  whom 
I  have  myself  met  with  are  some  whom  I  have 
known  only  by  repute.  These  children  of  Nature 
arc  after  all  the  truest  touchstones  of  a  nation's 
genius.  Crooked,  distorted,  deformed,  they  never- 
theless, and  perhaps  therefore,  show  clearly  the 
bent  of  their  race.  If  }rou  are  without  brake  or 
curb  you  may  be  blind,  but  you   must    know   when 


lect.  in]  THE  LITTLE   MANX  NATION  143 

you  are  going  down  hill.  The  curb  of  education,  and 
the  brake  of  common-sense  are  the  surest  checks 
on  a  people's  individuality.  And  these  poor  half- 
wits of  the  Manx  race,  wiser  withal  than  many  of 
the  Malvolios  who  smile  on  them  so  demurely, 
exhibit  the  two  great  racial  qualities  of  the  Manx 
people — the  Celtic  and  the  Norse — in  vivid  com- 
panionship and  contrast.  It  is  an  amusing  fact 
that  in  some  wild  way  the  bardic  spirit  breaks  out 
in  all  of  them.  They  are  all  singers,  either  of 
their  own  songs,  or  the  songs  of  others.  That 
surely  is  the  Celtic  strain  in  them.  But  their 
songs  are  never  of  the  joys  of  earth  or  of  love,  or  yet 
of  war  ;  never,  like  the  rustic  poetry  of  the  Scotch, 
full  of  pawky  humour ;  never  C3rnical,  never  sar- 
castic ;  only  concerned  with  the  terrors  of  judgment 
and  damnation  and  the  place  of  torment.  That, 
also,  may  be  a  fierce  and  dark  development  of  the 
Celtic  strain,  but  I  see  more  of  the  Norse  spirit  in 
it.  When  my  ancient  bard  in  Glen  Rushen  took 
down  his  thumb-marked,  greasy,  discoloured  poems 
from  the  "  lath  "  against  the  open-timbered  ceiling, 
and  read  them  aloud  to  me  in  his  broad  Manx 
dialect,  with  a  sing-song  of  voice  and  a  swinging 
motion  of  body,  while  the  loud  hailstorm  pelted  the 


144  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lect.  hi 

window  pane  and  the  wind  whistled  round  the 
house,  I  found  they  were  all  startling  and  almost 
ghastly  appeals  to  the  sinner  to  shun  his  evil 
courses.      One  of  them  ran  like  this  : 

HELL  IS  HOT. 

O  sinner,  see  your  dangerous  state, 

And  think  of  hell  ere  'tis  too  late  ; 

When  worldly  cares  would  drown  each  thought, 

Pray  call  to  mind  that  hell  is  hot. 

Still  to  increase  your  godly  fears, 

Let  this  be  sounding  in  your  ears, 

Still  bear  in  mind  that  hell  is  hot, 

Remember  and  forget  it  not. 

There  was  another  poem  about  a  congregation  of  the 
dead  in  the  region  of  the  damned  : 

I  found  a  reverend  parson  there, 

A  congregation  too, 
Bowed  on  their  bended  knees  at  prayer, 

As  they  were  wont  to  do. 
But  soon  my  heart  was  struck  with  pain, 

I  thought  it  truly  odd, 
The  parson's  prayer  did  not  contain 

A  word  concerning  God. 

You  will  remember  the  Danish  book  called  "  Letters 
from  Hell,"  containing  exactly  the  same  idea,  and 
conclude  that  the  Manx  bard  was  poking  fun  at 
some  fashionable  yet  worldly-minded  preacher.  But 
no  ;   he  was  too  much  a  child  of  Nature  for  that. 


lect.  in]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  145 

There  is  not  much  satire  in  the  Manx  character, 
and  next  to  no  cynicism  at  all.  The  true  Manxman 
is  white-hot.  I  have  heard  of  one,  John  Gale, 
called  the  Manx  Burns,  who  lampooned  the  upstarts 
about  him,  and  also  of  one,  Tom  the  Dipper,  an 
itinerant  Manx  bard,  who  sang  at  fairs  ;  but  in  a 
general  way  the  Manx  bard  has  been  a  deadly 
earnest  person,  most  at  home  in  churchyards. 
There  was  one  such,  akin  in  character  to  my  old 
friend  Billy  of  Maughold,  but  of  more  universal 
popularity,  a  quite  privileged  pet  of  everybody,  a 
sort  of  sacred  being,  though  as  crazy  as  man  may 
be,  called  Chalse-a-Killey.  Chaise  was  scarcely  a 
bard,  but  a  singer  of  the  songs  of  bards.  He  was 
a  religious  monomaniac,  who  lived  before  his  time, 
poor  fellow  ;  his  madness  would  not  be  seen  in  him 
now.  The  idol  of  his  crazed  heart  was  Bishop 
Wilson.  He  called  him  dear  and  sweet,  vowed  he 
longed  to  die,  just  that  he  might  meet  him  in  heaven, 
then  Wilson  would  take  him  by  the  hand,  and  he 
would  tell  him  all  his  mind,  and  together  they 
would  set  up  a  printing  press,  with  the  t}rpes  of 
diamonds,  and  print  hymns,  and  send  them  back  10 
the  Isle  of  Man.  Poor,  'wildered  brain,  haunted  by 
"  half-born  thoughts,"  not   all  delusions,  but  quaint 

K 


146  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lect.  m 

and  grotesque.  Full  of  valiant  fury,  Chaise  was 
always  ready  to  fight  for  his  distorted  phantom  of 
the  right.  When  an  uncle  of  my  own  died,  whose 
name  I  bear,  Chaise  shocked  all  the  proprieties  by 
announcing  his  intention  of  walking  in  front  of  the 
funeral  procession  through  the  streets  and  singing 
his  terrible  hymns.  He  would  yield  to  no  persua- 
sion, no  appeals,  and  no  threats.  He  had  promised 
the  dead  man  that  he  would  do  this,  and  he  would 
not  break  his  oath  to  save  his  life.  It  was  agony 
to  the  mourners,  but  they  had  to  submit.  Chaise 
fulfilled  his  vow,  walked  ten  yards  in  front,  sang 
his  fierce  music  with  the  tears  streaming  from 
his  wild  eyes  down  his  quivering  face.  But  the 
spectacle  let  loose  no  unseemly  mirth.  Nobody 
laughed,  and  surely  if  the  heaven  that  Chaise  feared 
was  listening  and  looking  down,  his  crazy  voice  was 
not  the  last  to  pierce  the  dome  of  it.  My  friend  the 
Rev.  T.  E.  Brown  has  written  a  touching  and 
beautiful  poem,  "  To  Chaise  in  Heaven  "  : 

So  you  are  gone,  dear  Chaise  ! 

Ah  well ;  it  was  enough  — 

The  ways  were  cold,  the  ways  were  rough. 

O  Heaven  !     O  home  ! 

No  more  to  roam, 

Chaise,  poor  Chaise  ! 
And  now  it's  all  ?o  plain,  dear  Chaise  ! 


lect.  in]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  147 

So  plain  — 

The  'wildered  brain, 

The  joy,  the  pain 
The  phantom  shapes  that  haunted, 
The  half-born  thoughts  that  daunted  : 

All,  all  is  plain, 
Dear  Chaise ! 

All  is  plain. 
*  *  *  »  ft  •::• 

Ah  now,  dear  Chaise  !  of  all  the  radiant  host, 
Who  loves  you  most  ? 

I  think  I  know  him,  kneeling  on  his  knees  ; 
Is  it  Saint  Francis  of  Assise  ? 

Chaise,  poor  Chaise. 


Manx  Characteristics 

I  have  rambled  on  too  long  about  my  eccentric 
Manx  characters,  and  left  myself  little  space 
for  a  summary  of  the  soberer  Manx  character- 
istics. These  are  independence,  modesty,  a  degree 
of  sloth,  a  non-sanguine  temperament,  pride,  and 
some  covetousness.  This  uncanny  combination  of 
characteristics  is  perhaps  due  to  our  mixed  Celtic 
and  Norse  blood.  Our  independence  is  pure 
Norse.  I  have  never  met  the  like  of  it,  except  in 
Norway,  where  a  Bergen  policeman  who  had  hunted 
all  the  morning  for  my  lost  umbrella  would  not  take 
anything  for  his  pains  ;    and   in   Iceland,   where  a 


143  THE   LITTLE   MANX   NATION  [lect.  hi 

poor  old  woman  in  a  ragged  woollen  dress,  a  torn  hufa 
on  her  head,  torn  skin  shoes  on  her  feet,  and  with 
rheumatism  playing  visible  havoc  all  over  her  body, 
refused  a  kroner  with  the  dignity,  grave  look, 
stiffened  lips,  and  proud  head  that  would  have 
become  a  duchess.  But  the  Manxman's  indepen- 
dence almost  reaches  a  vice.  lie  is  so  unwilling  to 
owe  anything  to  any  man  that  he  is  apt  to  become 
self-centred  and  cold,  and  to  lose  one  of  the 
sweetest  joys  of  life — that  of  receiving  great  favours 
from  those  we  greatly  love,  between  whom  and 
ourselves  there  is  no  such  thing  as  an  obligation, 
and  no  such  thing  as  a  debt.  There  is  something 
in  the  Manxman's  blood  that  makes  him  hate  rank  ; 
and  though  he  has  a  vast  respect  for  wealth,  it 
must  be  his  own,  for  he  will  take  off  his  hat  to 
nobody  else's. 

The  modesty  of  the  Manxman  reaches  shyness, 
and  his  shyness  is  capable  of  making  him  downright 
rude.  One  of  my  friends  tells  a  charming  story, 
very  characteristic  of  our  people,  of  a  conversation 
with  the  men  of  the  herring- fleet.  "  We  were 
comin'  home  from  the  Shetland  fishing,  ten  boats 
of  us  ;  and  we  come  to  an  anchor  in  a  bay.  And 
there    was   a    tremenjis    fine    castle    there,    and    a 


lect.  m]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  149 

ter'ble  great  lady.  Aw,  she  was  a  ter'ble  kind 
lady ;  she  axed  the  lot  of  us  (eighty  men  and  boys, 
eight  to  each  boat)  to  come  up  and  have  dinner 
with  her.  So  the  day  come — well,  none  of  us 
went  !  That  shy  !  "  My  friend  reproved  them 
soundly,  and  said  he  wished  he  knew  who  the  lady 
was  that  he  might  write  to  her  and  apologise.  Then 
followed  a  long  story  of  how  a  breeze  sprung  up 
and  eight  of  the  boats  sailed.  After  that  the  crew 
of  the  remaining  two  boats,  sixteen  men  and  boys, 
went  up  to  the  tremenjis  great  castle,  and  the 
ter'ble  great  lady,  and  had  tea.  If  any  lady  here 
present  knows  a  lady  on  the  north-west  coast  of 
Scotland  who  a  year  or  two  back  invited  eighty  Manx 
men  and  boys  to  dinner,  and  received  sixteen  to 
tea,  she  will  redeem  the  character  of  our  race  if  she 
will  explain  that  it  was  not  because  her  hospitality 
was  not  appreciated  that  it  was  not  accepted  by  our 
foolish  countrj'men. 

There  is  nothing  that  more  broadly  indicates  the 
Norse  strain  in  the  Manx  character  than  the  non- 
sanguine  temperament  of  the  Manxmen.  Where 
the  pure  Celt  will  hope  anything  and  promise 
everything,  the  Manxman  will  hope  not  at  all  and 
promise  nothing.      "  Middling  "  is  the   commonest 


150  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lect.  m 

word  in  a  Manxman's  mouth.  Hardly  anything  is 
entirely  good,  or  wholly  bad,  but  nearly  everything 
is  middling.  It's  a  middling  fine  day,  or  a  middling 
stormy  one  ;  the  sea  is  middling  smooth  or  middling 
rough  ;  the  herring  harvest  is  middling  big  or 
middling  little  ;  a  man  is  never  much  more  than 
middling  tired,  or  middling  well,  or  middling  hungry, 
or  middling  thirsty,  and  the  place  you  are  travelling 
to  is  always  middling  near  or  middling  far.  The  true 
Manxman  commits  himself  to  nothing.  When  Nelson 
was  shot  down  at  Trafalgar,  Cowle,  a  one-armed 
Manx  quartermaster,  caught  him  in  his  remaining 
arm.  This  was  Cowle's  story :  "  He  fell  right  into  my 
arms,  sir.  'Mr.  Cowle/  he  says,  'do you  think  I  shall 
recover  ?  '  'I  think,  my  lord,'  I  says, '  we  had  better 
wait  for  the  opinion  of  the  medical  man.'  "  Dear 
old  Cowle,  that  cautious  word  showed  you  were 
no  Irishman,  but  a  downright  middling  Manxman. 

I  have  one  more  story  to  tell,  and  that  is  of 
Manx  pride,  which  is  a  wondrous  thing,  usually 
very  ludicrous.  A  young  farming  girl  who  will  go 
about  barefoot  throughout  the  workdays  of  the  week 
would  rather  perish  than  not  dress  in  grand  attire, 
after  her  own  sort,  on  Sunday  afternoon.  But 
Manx    pride    in    dress    can   be    very   touching    and 


lect.  m]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  151 

human.  When  the  lighthouse  was  built  on  the 
Chickens  Rock,  the  men  who  were  to  live  in  it  were 
transferred  from  two  old  lighthouses  on  the  little 
islet  called  the  Calf  of  Man,  but  their  families  were 
left  in  the  disused  lighthouses.  Thus  the  men 
were  parted  from  their  wives  and  children,  but  each 
could  see  the  house  of  the  other,  and  en  Sunday 
mornings  the  wives  in  their  old  lighthouses  always 
washed  and  dressed  the  children  and  made  them 
"  nice  "  and  paraded  them  to  and  fro  on  the 
platforms  in  front  of  the  doors,  and  the  men 
in  their  new  lighthouse  always  looked  across  the 
Sound  at  their  little  ones  through  their  powerful 
telescopes. 

Manx  Types 

Surely  that  is  a  lovely  story,  full  cf  real  sweet- 
ness and  pathos.  It  reminds  me  that  amid  many 
half-types  of  dubious  quality,  selfish,  covetous, 
quarrelsome,  litigious,  there  are  at  least  two  types 
of  Manx  character  entirely  charming  and  delightful. 
The  one  is  the  best  type  of  Manx  seaman,  a  true 
sou  of  the  sea,  full  of  wise  saws  and  proverbs,  full 
of  long  yarns  and  wondrous  adventures,  up  to   any- 


152  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lect.  hi 

thing,  down  to  anything,  pragmatical,  a  mighty 
moralist  in  his  way,  but  none  the  less  equal  to  a 
round  ringing  oath  ;  a  sapient  adviser  putting  on 
the  airs  of  a  philosopher,  but  as  simple  as  the  baby 
of  a  girl — in  a  word,  dear  old  Tom  Bayncs  of 
"  Fo'c's'le  Yarns,"  old  salt,  old  friend,  old  rip.  The 
other  type  is  that  of  the  Manx  parish  patriarch. 
This  good  soul  it  would  be  hard  to  beat  among  all 
the  peoples  of  earth.  He  unites  the  best  qualities 
of  both  sexes  ;  he  is  as  soft  and  gentle  as  a  dear 
old  woman,  and  as  firm  of  purpose  as  a  strong  man. 
Garrulous,  full  of  platitudes,  easily  moved  to  tears 
by  a  story  of  sorrow  and  as  easily  taken  in,  but 
beloved  and  trusted  and  reverenced  by  all  the  little 
world  about  him.  I  have  known  him  as  a  farmer, 
and  seen  him  sitting  at  the  head  of  his  table  in  the 
farm  kitchen,  with  his  sons  and  daughters  and  men- 
servants  and  women-servants  about  him,  and,  save 
for  ribald  gossip,  no  one  of  whatever  condition 
abridged  the  flow  of  talk  for  his  presence.  I  have 
known  him  as  a  parson,  when  he  has  been  the 
father  of  his  parish,  the  patriarch  of  his  people,  the 
"  ould  angel  "  of  all  the  hillside  round  about.  Such 
sweetness  in  his  home  life,  such  nobility,  such 
gentle,  old-fashioned  ceremoniousness,  such  delight- 


lect.  in]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  153 

ful  simplicity  of  manners.  Then  when  two  of 
these  "  ould  angels"  met,  two  of  these  Parson 
Adamses,  living  in  content  on  seventy  pounds  a 
year,  such  high  talk  on  great  themes,  long  hour 
after  long  hour  in  the  little  low-ceiled  Vicarage 
study,  with  no  light  but  the  wood  fire,  which  glistened 
on  the  diamond  window-pane  !  And  when  mid- 
night came  seeing  each  other  home,  spending  half 
the  night  walking  to  and  fro  from  Vicarage  to 
Vicarage,  or  turning  out  to  saddle  the  horse  in  the 
field,  but  (far  away  "  in  wandering  mazes  lost  ") 
going  blandly  up  to  the  old  cow  and  putting  on  the 
blinkers  and  saying,  "  Here  he  is,  sir."  Have  we 
anything  like  all  this  in  England  ?  Their  type  is 
nearly  extinct  even  in  the  Isle  of  Man,  where  they 
have  longest  survived.  And  indeed  they  are  not 
the  only  good  things  that  are  dying  out  there. 


Literary  Associations 

The  island  has  next  to  no  literary  associations, 
but  it  would  be  unpardonable  in  a  man  of  letters  if 
he  were  to  forget  the  few  it  can  boast.  Joseph 
Train,    our    historian,    made    the    acquaintance    of 


154  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lect.  m 

Scott  in  1 8 14,  and  during  the  eighteen  years 
following  he  rendered  important  services  to  "  The 
Great  Unknown "  as  a  collector  of  some  of  the 
legendary  stories  used  as  foundations  for  what  were 
then  called  the  Scotch  Novels.  But  it  is  a  common 
error  that  Train  found  the  groundwork  of  the 
Manx  part  of  "  Peveril  of  the  Peak."  It  was  Scott 
who  directed  Train  to  the  Isle  of  Man  as  a  fine 
subject  for  study.  Scott's  brother  Thomas  lived 
there,  and  no  doubt  this  was  the  origin  of  Scott's 
interest  in  the  island.  Scott  himself  never  set 
foot  on  it.  Wordsworth  visited  the  island  about 
1823,  and  he  recorded  his  impressions  in  various 
sonnets,  and  also  in  the  magnificent  lines  on  Peel 
Castle — "  I  was  thy  neighbour  once,  thou  rugged 
pile."  He  also  had  a  relative  living  there — Miss 
Hutchinson,  his  sister-in-law.  A  brother  of  this 
lady,  a  mariner,  lies  buried  in  Braddan  churchyard, 
and  his  tombstone  bears  an  epitaph  which  Words- 
worth indited.  The  poet  spent  a  summer  at  Peel, 
pitching  his  tent  above  what  is  now  called  Peveril 
Terrace.  One  of  my  friends  tried  long  ago  to  pump 
up  from  this  sapless  soil  some  memory  of  Words- 
worth, but  no  one  could  remember  anything  about 
him.      Shelley    is    another    poet    of    whom     there 


lect.  m]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  155 

remains  no  trace  in  the  Isle  of  Man.  He  visited 
the  island  early  in  18 12,  being  driven  into  Douglas 
harbour  by  contrary  winds  on  his  voyage  from 
Cumberland  to  Ireland.  He  was  then  almost  un- 
known; Harriet  was  still  with  him,  and  his  head 
was  full  of  political  reforms.  The  island  was  in  a 
state  of  some  turmoil,  owing  to  the  unpopularity  of 
the  Athols,  who  still  held  manorial  rights  and  the 
patronage  of  the  Bishopric.  The  old  Norse  Con- 
stitution was  intact,  and  the  House  of  Keys  was 
then  a  self-elected  chamber.  It  is  not  wonderful 
that  Shelley  made  no  impression  on  Man  in  1812, 
but  it  is  surprising  that  Man  seems  to  have  made 
no  impression  on  Shelley.  It  made  a  very  sensible 
impression  on  Hawthorne,  who  left  his  record  in  the 
"  English  Note  Book." 


Manx  Progress 

I  am  partly  conscious  that  throughout  these 
lectures  I  have  kept  my  face  towards  the  past.  That 
has  been  because  I  have  been  loth  to  look  at  the 
present,  and  almost  afraid  to  peep  into  the  future. 
The  Isle  of  Man  is  not  now  what  it  was  even  five- 


156  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lect.  hi 

and-twenty  }rears  ago.  It  has  become  too  English 
of  late.  The  change  has  been  sudden.  Quite 
within  my  own  recollection  England  seemed  so  far 
away  that  there  was  something  beyond  conception 
moving  and  impressive  in  the  effect  of  it  and  its 
people  upon  the  imagination  of  the  Manx.  There 
were  only  about  two  steamers  a  week  between 
England  and  the  Isle  of  Man  at  that  time.  Now 
there  are  about  two  a  day.  There  are  lines  of 
railway  on  this  little  plot  of  land,  which  you  might 
cross  on  foot  between  breakfast  and  lunch,  and 
cover  from  end  to  end  in  a  good  day's  walk. 
This  is,  of  course,  a  necessity  of  the  altered 
conditions,  as  also,  no  doubt,  are  the  parades,  and 
esplanades,  and  promenades,  and  iron  piers,  and 
marine  carriage  drives,  and  Eiffel  Tower,  and  old 
castles  turned  into  Vauxhall  Gardens,  and  fairy 
glens  into  "  happy  day  "  Roshervilles.  God  forbid 
that  I  should  grudge  the  factory  hand  his  breath  of 
the  sea  and  glimpse  of  the  gorse-bushes  ;  but  I 
know  what  price  we  are  paying  that  we  may 
entertain  him. 

Our  young  Manxman  is  already  feeling  the  Eng- 
lish immigration  on  his  character.  He  is  not  as 
good  a  man  as  his  father  was  before  him.      I  dare 


lect.  m]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  157 

say  that  in  his  desire  to  make  everything  English 
that  is  Manx,  he  may  some  day  try  to  abolish  the 
House  of  Keys,  or  at  least  dig  up  the  Tynwald 
Hill.  In  one  fit  of  intermittent  mania,  he  has 
already  attempted  to  "  restore "  the  grand  ruins 
of  Peel  Castle,  getting  stones  from  Whitehaven, 
filling  up  loop-holes,  and  doing  other  indecencies 
with  the  great  works  of  the  dead.  All  this  could 
be  understood  if  the  young  Manxman  were  likely 
to  be  much  the  richer  for  the  changes  he  is  bringing 
about.  But  he  is  not  ;  the  money  that  comes 
from  England  is  largely  taken  by  English  people, 
and  comes  back  to  England. 


Conclusion 

From  these  ungracious  thoughts  let  me  turn 
again,  in  a  last  word,  to  the  old  island  itself,  the 
true  Mannin-veg-Veen  of  the  real  Manxman.  In 
these  lectures  you  have  seen  it  only  as  in  flashes  from 
a  dark  lantern.  I  am  conscious  that  an  historian 
would  have  told  you  so  much  more  of  solid  fact 
that  you  might  have  carried  away  tangible  ideas. 
Fact   is   not   my   domain,   and    I   shall   have   to   be 


I58  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  [lect.  hi 

content  if  in  default  of  it  I  have  got  you  close  to 
that  less  palpable  thing,  the  living  heart  of  Manx- 
land,  shown  you  our  island,  helped  you  to  see  its 
blue  waters  and  to  scent  its  golden  gorse,  and  to 
know  the  Manxman  from  other  men.  Sometimes 
I  have  been  half  ashamed  to  ask  you  to  look  at 
our  countrymen,  so  rude  are  they  and  so 
primitive — russet-coated,  currane-shod  men  and 
women,  untaught,  superstitious,  fishing  the  sea, 
tilling  their  stony  land,  playing  next  to  no  part 
in  the  world,  and  only  gazing  out  on  it  as  a  mys- 
tery far  away,  whereof  the  rumour  comes  over  the 
great  waters.  No  great  man  among  us,  no  great 
event  in  our  history,  nothing  to  make  us  memorable. 
But  I  have  been  re-assured  when  I  have  remem- 
bered that,  after  all,  to  look  on  a  life  so  simple  and 
natural  might  even  be  a  tonic.  Here  we  are  in 
the  heart  of  the  mighty  world,  which  the  true 
Manxman  knows  only  by  vague  report  ;  millions  on 
millions  huddled  together,  enough  to  make  five 
hundred  Isles  of  Man,  more  than  all  the  Manxmen 
that  have  lived  since  the  days  of  Orry,  more  than 
all  that  now  walk  on  the  island,  added  to  all  that 
rest  under  it  ;  streets  on  streets  of  us,  parks  on 
parks,  living  a  life  that   has  no  touch  of  Nature  in 


lect.  in]  THE  LITTLE  MANX  NATION  159 

the  ways  of  it ;  save  only  in  our  own  breasts,  which 
often  rebel  against  our  surroundings,  struggling 
with  weariness  under  their  artificiality,  and  the  wild 
travesty  of  what  we  are  made  for.  Do  what  we 
will,  and  be  what  we  may,  sometimes  we  feel  the 
falseness  of  our  ways  of  life,  and  surely  it  is  then  a 
good  and  wholesome  thing  to  go  back  in  thought  to 
such  children  of  Nature  as  my  homespun  Manx 
people,  and  see  them  where  Nature  placed  them, 
breathing  the  free  air  of  God's  proper  world,  and 
living  the  right  lives  of  His  servants,  though  so 
simple,  poor,  and  rude. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


«hV« 


«tf>w 


^ 


H» 


<& 


RFCOTfc 


FEP ?  ■ 


Form  L9-Series  4939 


3  1158  00602  4425 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    000  400  256    4 


